


What the Hell is Happening???

by Leader_In_Red



Series: What the Hell is Happening? [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Simarillion
Genre: But they're there as well, Fellowship in Modern World, I mean... she apologies eventually, I'm writing this as stress relief, IDK why the Sons of Feanor are there, It's the Feanorians' fault, Kidnapping, Kinslayers, Maybe a smidgen of angst later, Modern Era, Weird time stuff, it's a mess, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 66,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21569335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leader_In_Red/pseuds/Leader_In_Red
Summary: When bookworm Hazel Lee finds out that her friends have all somehow ditched her on their winter retreat to her Uncle's cabin in the Colorado Rockies, she thinks that she's going to be in for 6 weeks of tea, books, snowy hikes, and some well deserved peace and quiet. What she doesn't expect is for a pair of fantasy characters with darks pasts to find their way to her cabin and throw all her plans for peace (and definitions of reality) into a tailspin.Before she knows it, a certain Balrog slayer with a bone to pick with Feanorians makes an entrance.If that wasn't bad enough, the Fellowship of the Ring decides to come knocking and Hazel is about ready to throw in the towel.Will Hazel be able to prevent a fourth Kinslaying?Will she manage to keep the future separate from the past?And most importantly... will she be able to feed four hungry hobbits?A.K.A. I've been writing too much angst and I needed some humor. This is pure fun. Expect it to get absurd.I made a discord if anyone wants to say hihttps://discord.gg/nvmg8tx4wy
Series: What the Hell is Happening? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815001
Comments: 844
Kudos: 867
Collections: Old Pineapple's Favs





	1. Chapter 1

By the time Hazel arrived at the cabin, the snow was already falling in thick sheets and she barely managed to lug her three duffel bags through the door. Yes... three duffel bags is a lot for six weeks, but it included her precious books and enough food to get her through almost her entire time in the cabin. It was actually enough food to get four people through at least a few weeks, but her other three roommates had all been called off to something or another. 

Megan was whisked away for a surprise family vacation in Hawaii.

Stephanie got a research position in an on campus lab that she just couldn't turn down. 

And Riley... well last Hazel saw of Riley her friend of five years was glued to some dude who was apparently her soul mate. 

Either way... she was on her own for six weeks until the end of the winter holiday and back to school and a stupidly picked chemistry major. As much as Hazel loved learning, it could get exhausting and there was nothing that she could imagine to be better than six weeks in an isolated cabin with an entire duffel bag filled with books. She would hide away in her own fantasy worlds for six weeks without any interruptions... no formulas to memories or lab tables to graph... just mountain hikes and books by the fire. Sure her mother was a little concerned about her spending six weeks in near total isolation, but she was a big girl. She grew up on the land and could handle herself reasonably well against both cougars and squatters.

Thrilled by the prospect of having her Uncle's entire four bedroom cabin to herself, she immediately set about kindling a cheery fire to warm up the frosty air. Hazel then bustled about to unpack her clothes in one of the two upstairs bedrooms. She unpacked the food and dumped a can of chili into the crockpot before testing the taps and fining everything in satisfactory working order. The solar panels had been charged up enough so she didn't have to worry about fiddling with the backup generator just yet.

She then carefully unpacked her precious books and, after brewing a suitable sized mug of tea, settled onto the couch to a well deserved reading break after all that driving and unpacking. The book that she chose that night was a re-read as she found herself drawn to The Simarillion for the umpteenth time. She had been through the rather hefty volume on a number of occasions, but as she was planning on doing one long read through of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series on her trip, she figured that it would be best for her to brush up on her history of Middle Earth. 

At some point in the night, the howling wind and crackling fire must have lulled her to sleep as she found herself awakening to slightly chilly morning air. The fire had gone out sometime during the night and she quickly rekindled it until she had a nice blaze going to keep her warm. After a hearty breakfast, she deemed it time to set out and go on an exploratory hike of the surroundings as no one had been up at the cabin for over a year and she hadn't had a chance to check the property the night before. The snow had stopped falling midway through the night and a few inches of fresh powder graced the landscape. 

Hazel was carful to ensure her .308 was loaded, _ten in the magazine, one in the chamber,_ as she knew that mountain lions prowled the area. She then packed up a daypack with some water, snacks, and a few bits and bobs of equipment that she thought might become necessary if she had to do any light repairs to the property. 

Stepping outside, the scent of pine and fresh snow hit Hazel like a wave, with it all the warm memories of years of family vacations to the little secluded cabin. As winter was just benign, the non migratory birds were chattering about, singing as they searched for any lingering snacks still hanging from the barren branches. The snow and dried pine needles crinkled under foot and after a quick check to ensure her car had not been knocked over during the night, Hazel veered off the trails. She wandered aimlessly for a while, being intimately familiar with the woods she had no fears of getting lost. 

She half hoped to spot a deer or maybe even a bear slinking off to hibernation a few days late. She knew that being the only cabin for miles, the property would be utterly devoid of any other humans. So caught up in the joys of the icy wind as it pierced through her lungs, Hazel almost missed the slightly odd lump in the distance.

Far off, near the edge of her eyesight, Hazel swore that she saw a bright stain of red. Now foxes did pop up every now and again in the woodlands, but this lump was uncannily still. A shot of fear and righteous anger immediately pulsed through Hazel as she feared that it might be the poor victim of a fur trapper. The cabin was _completely_ isolated with only one road in or out, situated on nearly 3,000 acres of pristine wilderness. It was a property passed down through generations. It was inaccessible to tourists being down such a winding and downright dangerous path and everyone in town knew to keep away. 

Checking to ensure that her gun was loaded, Hazel proceeded forward with caution, not knowing if the trappers were still nearby. It was unlikely as her road was the only way up and there was no way anyone would've been able to drive the path any deeper into the previous night's storm than Hazel, however one could never be too careful.

As she neared the splotch of red however, it quickly became apparent that it was not in fact, a fox. No, it was something much larger than a fox.

It was a person!

A very tall, very broad shouldered, unconscious person with flaming red hair

Carrying a very sharp looking sword. 

Hazel did a double take, not quite believing her eyes. The man looked like he got lost on his way to a renaissance fair, but there were no footprints to indicate how he arrived. Hazel couldn't help but notice that, despite the way he was crumpled on the ground, he would likely tower over her when he stood at full height. His hair was a ragged mess reaching down to his waist and was the exact color of a fox's fur, and on his brow was some sort of weird, twisted metal circlet. 

A quick scan indicated that the man did indeed carry equipment that could coincide with a poacher. While he had no apparent gun, _a stupid miscalculation in an area with over three times the number of mountain lions to humans per square kilometer,_ he did carry his heavy sword, a frighteningly excessive number of knives, a fresh rabbit carcass beside him, and his coat was lined with several pelts sewn haphazardly together in a manner which Hazel could only imagine to be a more convenient way of carrying. 

He was also, thankfully unconscious. 

This left Hazel in a rather complicated position. She was absolutely alone as the night's storm likely knocked out the phone lines. The road would now be far to icy to drive on and thus if she wanted to get to town, she would have to brave hike the would take her the greater part of the day... and that's if she could make it across the probably only semi-frozen river. This man was obviously a poacher of some sort as there was no legal hunting on her family's property... and she had encountered many poachers before... some who would shoot first and ask questions later. This man would easily be able to over power her if he were to awaken and really... with how isolated they were it would be easy for him to kill her and leave her body for the scavengers. 

She should just leave him. 

Serves him right for trespassing and poaching.

But... at the same time...

Hazel couldn't quite bear the thought of leaving him to die of exposure. He might be wearing a fur lined coat, but she knew that there was no shelter substantial enough for a man of his size with no equipment to survive off of in quite a distance. She couldn't bare the thought of leaving anyone... not even a poacher, to die out on the harsh expanses. 

But... Hazel could hear both her mother and father's scolding voices in her head, warning her about the dangers of a woman completely on her own. 

A compromise then.

Being determined to not let the man die, but also to not end up as a headline in the local news as "College Student Brutally Murdered by Unknown Assailant Not Found for Six Weeks," she pulls out a length of paracord from her backpack. She would tie him up, take him back to the cabin to keep him warm and under guard, and then call up the troopers as soon as the phone lines started up again. She would just have to put up with him until then. 

When she bend down to strip the man of his weapons however, Hazel noticed several odd things at once. 

First of all... he had a lot of knives. 

She had met plenty of hunters who insisted on using a different knife for every processes of skinning before, but this was excessive even for that. The second, and much bigger thing she noticed, was that he was insanely attractive. He wasn't that "hot guy in bio" type of attractive, no he was European-runway-model-without-plastic-barbie-doll attractive. 

"Alright Hazel, hot guys can still be dangerous," she reminded herself as she set about her task of binding his wrists. 

That's where the second problem came about.

He only had one hand.

Hazel was shocked to stillness for a moment, staring at the smooth flesh of where his hand should have been. She briefly wondered if he had been born without... it seemed likely as there was not a single scar... but the stump was too broad... too indicative of an appendage being there. 

This was also the moment where Hazel realized that there might be a special place in hell for people who tie up other people with only one hand, but again, Hazel reminded herself that this man was certainly a trespasser and almost definitely a poacher... there was no way to accidentally wander onto her property past all the "Keep Out" signs. She figured that the best way to restrain the strangely attractive, one handed man was to tie his wrist to his elbow and wrap both of those bonds loosely around his neck. There was no strain on the man's throat, but if he tried to tug on his bindings too much then it would put pressure on his neck and hopefully keep him from attempting to break free and disembowl Hazel.

Just as Hazel finished loading the plethora of knives into her backpack and strapping the sword across the bottom of it, the man started to stir. 

Hazel had a tiny moment of panic as she realized that he might not be too happy about being caught and so she found herself clutching her rifle. If she wasn't so concerned with his reaction to waking, she might have realized that it was incredibly strange for a man to be unconscious in the snow for so long, only to suddenly awaken without any apparent problems. However, considering the fact that she had just found an unconscious poacher-supermodel on her property... it really wasn't the time to be thinking too logically. 

When she man woke up, predictably, the first thing he did was tug on his restraints, uttering a string of what Hazel could only assume to be curses in a bizarrely musical language. He yanked, choking himself several times before turning to glare fiercely at Hazel. 

The girl almost found herself stumbling back in fright as the man before her had eyes more intense than she ever imagined. They were ancient, burning with a type of brightness and fury that she could only begin to comprehend. He instantly hissed a series of more expletives whilst Hazel tried in vain to figure out what language he was speaking in. 

"Look, buddy," she stalled and forced more confidence into her tone as she continued. "I don't know who you are or what you're saying, but you're trespassing and poaching on private property. I'm gonna take you back to my cabin for now to keep you out of the cold as a storm's gonna hit by sundown. You're gonna stay nice and calm, and come the end of the storm, we're gonna call up Fish and Wildlife and you can take your grievances up with them."

He stared at her for several moments, face grim and head cocked as if he were trying to pull together her words. Finally, he did speak and this time, thankfully, in English.

"How dare you bind me in such a way. Do you know who I am?!" he hissed.

"Oh great, my favorite line... listen buddy... I don't care if you're the Queen of England. You're trespassing and poaching on private property. You'll get a slap on the wrist at most and what I really are about is keeping you off my property in the future. So you're just gonna stay nice and calm..."

"Where's my brother?!" he suddenly demanded, turning those piecing eyes to Hazel once again.

"You're-"

"My brother?! What have you done to him? If you have harmed him then I swear-"

"I don't know where you're brother is!" she cried out, cutting him off. "But great, just great. Is he carrying a boatload of pointy things as well?"

"Do you mock us, child?"

"Alright this is-"

"Release my brother at once!" a rather firm voice demanded. 

Instantly, Hazel had her gun pointed at the only thing she could, the red haired man. From behind a tree, far too thin and sickly with winter to possibly hide a man, emerged another man just as pale and perfect as the one tied up before her. This one however had dark hair. He too had an array of knives strapped to him and was bearing a sword. 

"You will release my brother this instant."

"Step any closer with that thing and I shoot him," she tapped the barrel of her gun to the red head to make her point clear. While she spoke in the most commanding voice she could dredge up from three years of community theatre, internally she was panicking. 

_Okay, this is escalating real fast... I should've just left him to the wilds..._

"What threat can you possibly make."

"Ummm? I have a gun?!"

"A gun?" there was genuine curiosity in his voice. 

"Yeah, a gun," Hazel's bewilderment was growing. "As in a fully loaded gun... safety's off."

"What is this device that you speak of?"

"Oh for crying out loud!" she raised the gun a fraction of an inch and shot a nearby tree, the _boom_ echoing across the landscape. 

Both men realized a rather loud curse in their language, staring at each other with wide eyes... it was like they'd never seen gun before in their life. Hazel was getting more and more confused by the second. She was brought back to reality by the men bickering in their strange tongue. She allowed them to go on for a little while before interrupting their conversation. 

"Alright boys, this is how we're gonna play it," she made sure to emphasize her hold on the rifle. "You- are going to drop your sword and pull off every last knife, dagger, or pointy object in any form, tossing them into a pile over there. Then, you're going to kneel with your hands behind your head and I'm going to bind your wrists. We are all then going to take a march down to my cabin where I'm going to lock the both of you in a nice and cozy room to wait out the storm before Fish and Wildlife arrive and you'll never have to see me again. Capiche?"

The dark haired one, at a barked out order from the red head, nodded slowly with great reluctance. He followed her orders to a T and knelt, allowing Hazel to bind his wrists in a similar manner. She then nudged them both to their feet and told them to walk ahed, guiding them with words. 

The bothers, or so she assumed from the red head's demands, were eerily silent as they walked. In fact, Hazel couldn't help but noticed that they didn't seem at all perturbed by the snow that they walked through, not even crinkling it underfoot. She rested the urge to make a comment and instead focused on quelling her raging heart and attempting to not contemplate how deep the shit she was currently in went. They arrived at the cabin and she ushered them quickly across the living room and into the basement where there was luckily nothing aside from an old couch and the water heater. She was so focused on her internal monologue that she almost jumped in fright when one of them, the red haired one, spoke. 

"You do realize who you threaten with your dark weapons, child," he hissed in a smooth and almost sultry purr.

"I told you..."

"Prince Maedhros and Prince Maglor Feonorian."

Hazel froze, eyes growing impossibly wider. 

"Did you just say that you're Maedhros and Maglor?"

"Yes."

"Feonorian?"

"Yes."

"Princes of the Noldor Elves?"

"Did you hear me stutter?"

"Right okay... I'll take that into account," she finished her words and rushed up the stairs, slamming the door and locking it. Luckily, it was designed to be bear proof and thus the door was sturdy enough for her to not have to worry about the two rather strong men on the other side. 

Strong, and evidently insane men.

Her "poachers" were delusional.

They though they were elves.

"Oh I am so screwed," she whispered to herself as she headed straight for her brandy decanter. 


	2. Chapter 2

Digging through the back recesses of the old liquor cabinet, Hazel found her prize. It wasn't one of those cheap bottles of drug store rum that her friends would've partied over if they were there... nope. It was a weighty crystal decanter of aged brandy that her Uncle saved for special occasions like birthdays, graduations, and that one time he needed to calm down after Hazel fractured her arm in three places climbing up an ice slicked cliff face. 

She figured that finding two crazy poachers who thought they were elves counted. 

She poured a rather large shot into one of the little crystal brandy glasses that the decanter came with and settled on downed the entire things right there at the cabinet, savoring the smooth as silk feeling of the liquor sliding down her throat. She stared at the decanter, watching light flickering off the chiseled surface, casting tiny rainbows about the room, as she contemplated pouring herself another... maybe just downing the decanter. 

But no... she needed a clear head. 

With newfound resolution, she took the array of daggers and swords, stashing them in a hidden cubicle beneath the kitchen cupboard. She then turned on the kettle with the intent of making herself some tea so as to resist the temptations of the liquor cabinet. 

Once her tea was brewed, she sat on the couch facing the basement door and contemplated possibilities. Now that she had a moment to think, she was able to see that there were many other likely and plausible options... maybe those people weren't psychos. Either way, she was going to have to address them eventually because if they were out in the cold for any length of time, they were likely freezing in the basement. No matter who they were, she didn't want them to freeze to death in her home. 

Steeling herself and checking that her gun was still fully loaded, Hazel walked up to the door and banged on it rather loudly. 

"Listen up," she could hear the shuffling in the basement stop. "I want both of you with your backs against the opposite wall. I'm opening the door and my gun is pointed. If anything jumps out at me, I will shoot."

She heard a series of shuffles as the two "elves" moved into position. Dearly praying that they would be obedient, she slowly unlocked the door and threw it open. 

To her surprise, both figures stood exactly where she ordered them to be, their backs pressed firmly against the wall. To her delight, they were also still stuck in their ties as it seemed that her years of Girl Scouts were paying off. She scanned their faces, seeing completely blank and neutral expressions staring back at her. It was a bit creepy, but she started off with a light tone. 

"Alright guys, the ruse is up." They made no reaction, but she was praying that she would be correct. "Who hired you? Was it Riley? Or was it Riley and she told you to tell me that it was Matthew? Where'd she even find the two of you anyway, are you acting students?"

"We know not of what you speak," the dark haired one- she refused to call him Maglor, spoke slowly as one would to a child. 

"Ya ya... very funny. Look, I don't know how much she'd paying you guys... but you can stop now. I'll give you boys credit, really... you play your parts well. In fact, perfect casting. I haven't got a clue where she found you, but Mr. "well made copper top" there is incredibly book accurate. You've even got a missing right hand which I honestly can't tell if its some crazy prosthetic or if you just don't have one."

"You dare insinuate such lies, servant of Morgoth!" the red head, certainly not Maedhros spat. 

"What, me? You think I'm the liar here?" her head was spinning. If they were actors hired by her friends... they were pretty dedicated to their characters. "Hold up... did you just call me a servant of Morgoth?"

"Who else wields weapons of such darkness whilst lighting their dwellings with false fire?"

Hazel's mouth fell open. _They're talking about lightbulbs... they're pretending that they don't know what lightbulbs are..._

"Do not gape in such a way, it is undignified," not-Maedhros sniped.

Hazel heard her jaw audibly click shut as she contemplated this new batch of information. _So either they're really really dedicated actors... or it's back to the crazy people theory._

Just as she started to do the mental calculations on how long it would take till the phone line were back up and how much panicked crying she would need to do over the phone to convince Fish and Wildlife that the situation was serious enough for them to send a helicopter... she noticed not-Maglor sliding down slowly against the wall.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she demanded sharply, worried that he was trying to untie himself.

Not-Maglor just clenched his teeth and shuddered. It was only then that Hazel noticed the rapidly spreading red stain across his shoulder.

"Did you get hurt out there?! Why didn't you say something??!" 

The "brothers" looked at each other, rapidly speaking in their beautiful, flowing language... or "Quenya" as she would assume they would claim. Before they could get much further, Hazel cut in. 

"Listen, if you're not actors, then that means you're crazy people who think that you're elves. Either way, I'm not going to let you bleed out so you," she pointed her finger at not-Maglor, "are going to walk very slowly over here and up the stairs. I'm going to bandage your shoulder and then I'll return you to your buddy with a few blankets. We're all gonna wait out the storm and then I'll call some very nice folks to take the two of you to a padded cell. How does that sound?"

"The First Born do not feel the cold," not-Maedhros sniffed. 

"Right... ya. Get up here," she ordered not-Maglor who slowly rose to his feet, climbing up the steps with only a hint of reluctance. 

She locked the door behind them and guided him over to the couch. Keeping him in the corner of her eye, Hazel moved over to the drawers where they kept the first aide kit and brought the bright red bag over. Hazel struggled to not roll her eyes at the wide eyed gaze that not-Maglor was using to observe everything from the lamp to the refrigerator. 

After checking to ensure that his wrists were still firmly tied, Hazel slung her rifle across her back and pulled out a pair of bandage scissors, warning not-Maglor that she would be cutting his tunic. The man nodded stiffly and she began carefully cutting it open to reveal a thoroughly mangled shoulder with a halfhearted bandage. A small amount of puss was leaking from the wounds and it looked like he had been chewed on by a rocky cliffside. 

"What the hell happened?" she gasped. Hazel was no stranger to injuries obtained in the wilds, but the severity of the wound made her shocked that he wasn't at least panting in pain. 

"A troll... several hours before you captured my brother and I."

"A troll... right," she murmured before she set about cleaning the injury. 

The pair fell of into silence at that as she continued to clean and bandage his mangled injury, carefully wiping away and grime with antiseptic and smearing an antibiotic cream before neatly tying it with gauze. She then moved the remains of his tattered tunic over the bandaging, careful to not further disturb the wound. 

"Thank you, you are a skilled healer," he hummed lightly. 

"Okay, well," she pulled off her rubber gloves and threw away the trash. "I suppose it's time we get some blankets and maybe a hot drink in the two of you."

"You truly think us mad?" he suddenly asked. 

"I'm sure you really think that you're elves..." she began slowly, wishing that she had taken that psychology class with Megan.

"And if I proved to you that we are Eldar?"

"I'm sorry, but elves aren't real."

"Check my ears."

"What?"

"Humans have round ears, Eldar have pointed. Check my ears."

Hazel sighed, deeming it best to humor the crazy man, she carefully pulled back a strand of silky black hair... only to find a pointy ear. _What?! No way..._ She immediately felt along the point, running her fingers down along the edge and to where his ear connect to his skull... there was no seam of latex. She then pinched the tip, tugging lightly and watching how it flushed slightly red at her proddings. She also couldn't help but notice how not-Maglor shuddered beneath her touch, as if she was feeling along some incredibly sensitive and intimate part of him.

"They're... real?" Hazel's breath caught in her throat. They were absolutely real... made of true flesh as no prosthetic could be. 

She grabbed him by his elbow, guiding him to the basement where she threw open the door, quickly ushering him down the stairs. 

Not Maedhros said something to him with a frown, but not-Maglor replied with ease. 

Hazel retreated upwards to the top of the stairs and flicked the light switch there, plunging the basement into darkness. 

The men- elves... _glowed._

They actually, legitimately glowed with a soft, pale light like one would in the moon. And not just their skin, but their eyes _glowed_. Their eyes could actually better be described as shining like bright stars in the night. There was no way that that could be faked. 

Hazel flicked the lights back on and stared at their mildly confused faces. Her mouth was back to a rather unattractive O as she remained frozen in shock. 

"Child..." not-Maglor... no, _Maglor,_ spoke with a look of concern on his face. 

"You're... you're... you guys are..." Hazel stuttered in a manner which she had not since third grade. "You're both _elves_."

"As we have stated clearly before," _Maedhros_... as in Feonorian Noldor prince... temporary High King of the Noldor, Kin slayer, adoptive father of Elrond and Elros... spoke rather bluntly. 

"Elves..." came out as slightly more of a whimper. 

_I'm in some really deep shit,_ was all that Hazel could think. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Not gonna faint... not gonna faint..._

_I am NOT one of those Victorian damsels who faints in distress._

_Breath_

_In_

_Out_

_In..._

_OH MY GOD ELVES ARE REAL AND TWO OF THE MOST INFAMOUS ELVES IN HISTORY ARE IN MY BASEMENT_

_I tied them up_

_They're gonna be pissed._

Hazel then did the only logical thing that she could in that situation, she slammed the door shut, locked it, bolted it, and pushed her couch up against it before collapsing on said couch. 

_Elves are REAL._

She shook her head, staring once again at her Uncle's liquor cabinet, briefly wondering if it was at all possible that there was something funny in that drink. _Maybe one two many herbs in the tea..._ she thought wistfully. But no, what she saw was certainly real. Maglor- as in _the_ Maglor Feanorian, foster father of Lord Elrond... he had pointed ears. His skin glowed. His eyes shone with light- the light of the Two Trees. 

They were indeed the Elder... the Firstborn. 

Hazel's mind swam. 

Incredulously, one thought that kept popping into her head was how mad Riley would be at missing out on meeting actual elves from Tolkien's universe. She was an even bigger nerd than Hazel and something in Hazel was willing to make a bet that if she were to call Riley, the girl would be mad enough to steal a helicopter to get to the cabin and meet the pair. 

Nevertheless, she was here alone, and she had to come up with a plan... quickly. Hazel assumed that the only reason why the brothers had not decided to break out and murder her was because they were likely as confused and surprised by the situation as she was. That confusion would soon wear out... and she needed a plan. Hazel knew how dangerous they were, how the oath compelled them, and how many they murdered. But, at the same time, she knew that there was goodness in both of them. Maglor raised the twins like a father, Maedhros, for all his arrogance, was honorable in giving up his crown to mend the rift between the Noldor. 

That didn't make them any less dangerous. 

After several deep breaths and four more mugs of steaming tea, Hazel made up her mind. She ran to her bookshelf and picked off all the copies of The Lord of the Rings series and The Silmarillion, stashing them in the family's gun safe. She then brewed two additional mugs, each with a spoon of honey, and opened the basement door. 

The Feanorian brothers were sitting in relatively the same place as where she had left them, an almost board look plastered across Maedhros' face. 

_Of course,_ Hazel thought, _he's been a captive of Thangorodrim... being tied up in my basement is likely the least of his problems._

Walking slowly foward, Hazel held up the mugs of hot tea like a peace offering. An overly forced smile crossed her lips as she approached them in the manner one might a hungry lion. 

"I brought you guys some hot tea... I figured that even if elves don't get cold like humans... men... you might want a hot drink."

"So I see my brother succeed in convincing you that we are of the Eldar," Maedhros rose one eyebrow imperiously and Hazel suddenly understood where Lord Elrond derived his famous healer's glare from.

"Why don't... why don't you guys drink and then I'll explain what I can before you think about strangling me?"

The brothers conversed briefly and Hazel resisted the urge to run back upstairs and find her Elvish Languages translation book. Eventually, Maedhros agreed to her terms. 

Still not trusting the elves as they had no incentive _not_ to kill her, Hazel had to hold up the cooling tea and let them sip it gently. The brothers did so without complaint and Hazel suppressed the slight tinge of guilt. They were likely inedibly thirsty as who knew how long they had remained out in the storm before she found them. Hazel pretended not to notice the way her hands shook as Maedhros delicately sipped the honeyed liquid, his eyes burning straight through Hazel as he stared at her across the lip of the cup. 

"Alright... so... where do we start?" Hazel scratched the back of her head nervously, thoroughly creeped out by the mostly blank stares that she was getting. "Well... my name is Hazel and I'm obviously a child of man... certainly not a servant of Morgoth," she added in suddenly. "And to start off with... the reason why I tied both of you up was purely caution. I'm by myself up here and there's no one else for miles. This land is private property and the only people who come up are my family and the occasional illegal poacher- a person who hunts animals for money and to the detriment of nature. That's what I assumed you guys were."

"I can understand your fears," Maglor nodded gravely, almost forgivingly. 

_Oh Maglor... they said that you inherited your mother's gentle spirit._

"There's more though..." Not Hazel was very hesitant. "I'm not sure how to break this to you... but you're sorta in... another world?"

"Another world?" Maedhros questioned surprisingly calmly. 

"Ya... another world. I know it sounds crazy, but consider this from my perspective... elves don't exist in this world."

"Yet you know of us?" Maedhros still seemed relatively peeved with the situation and thus about 49% more likely to murder Hazel. "You referenced my mother-name of Maitimo and my epesse of Russandol. While there is a chance for a child of man to hear of my epesse... none would ever know my mother-name."

"Um... ya," Hazel seriously considered her overuse of um at that moment. "This is where things get more complicated..." a sudden thought popped into her mind. "I'm sorry... but how many brothers do you currently have?"

She had to ask the question... she had to figure out where in the timeline they were. If she had learned anything from the horrendous volume of sci-fy books and shows... it was that messing with time is dangerous. If she told them of their fates, then they would change them. But, if they changed their actions... if they didn't kill so many elves, if they didn't create the horrendous rifts and slaughters of the First Age... then the Third Age with the War of the Ring and the defeat of Sauron would never happen. If they didn't kidnap Elrond and Elros, two great lineages might never occur and thus... everything in Middle Earth could change!

_Oh God... I cannot screw up Middle Earth. Riley would never forgive me if Frodo doesn't throw the Ring into Mount Doom!_

Both brothers had turned silent at her question, and Hazel could hardly blame them. She wanted to offer what comfort she could... but she couldn't risk saying anything until she knew. 

"Why do you ask such a thing?" Maglor asked. 

"It's... very very complicated. But, I promise... if you can answer me honestly in that then I will explain to the absolute best of my abilities."

The brothers turned and again conversed in Quenya, Hazel becoming incredibly annoyed that they did this so often right in front of her. She was again tempted to fetch her translation book, but finally, they turned at spoke to her in English once more. 

"You hold the last Sons of Feanor captive," Maedhros spoke gravely. "What do you want of us?"

"Then I take it that the third Kinslaying has occurred... and you have a pair of elflings in your care?"

In an instant, Maedhros was standing. Even with his arms restraint behind his back he cut an intimidating sight. The meaning for the title of "Maedhros the Tall" became incredibly obvious as he stood before her, blindingly furious- copper hair reflecting the pale light of his face and his glowing eyes as he gazed imperiously down his nose at Hazel who was scrambling backwards, hands clutching her gun. 

"You claim our kind do not exist, you claim we have wandered into a different world, and yet you speak of things no Edain should ever know of. Who are you and how dare you hold the Sons of Feanor captive?!"

Hazel was stumbling backwards, panic threatening to creep into her mind as she neared the stairs, rifle held tight but not yet pointed at the elves. _He's angry... he's confused... it's to be expected..._

"Calm down! Calm down... please! Let me explain." Hazel was searching her mind for anything at all that she could say to him to perhaps help him understand... to maybe sound less insane and slightly more comprehensible. "You know of seers? Of those who can look into the future?"

"Yes," Maglor, still sitting surprisingly calmly on the floor, spoke. 

"Well I believe... as of today... that there was once a man here on _Earth_ who was a seer of sorts. Instead of seeing the future of our world however... he saw into yours. He wrote down many tales of Middle Earth, tales involving elves, dwarves, orcs, and hobbits... creatures that don't exist in this world." Hazel paused for a moment to inhale deeply and watch the myriad of emotions flicker across the faces of the elves. "He wrote these tales down in a series of books, works of fiction. I happen to have read those books many times... your stories are in those books..."

Hazel paused her speech and watched as the fury faded from Maedhros' eyes. He too seemed to notice his previous wrath and thus took a half step back, becoming- to Hazel's surprise, visibly calmer. Maglor too seemed to be far more serene upon hearing her tale and Hazel realized that, coming from a world where they fought with gods... this concept wasn't so far out. 

"If you know our past..." Maglor spoke slowly. "Then do you know our future?"

"... yes."

"No," Maedhros cut in sharply. "We will not ask you to tell us our fates. The gift of foresight is dangerous... and to know our own fates may only harm us."

Hazel breathed a sigh of relief. She had feared that the brothers would demand information on the future and she didn't know if she had the conviction to face down two angry Kinslayers. If there was one thing that she learned from reading The Silmarillion, it was that the Feanorians were endlessly stubborn. The fact that they not only seemed to mostly believe her, but also didn't want to know about their futures seemed almost too good to be true. 

_One more problem..._

"So now that you know the basics... what do you think?"

Again, the brothers conversed. This time they seemed to be in a rather heated discussion and thus Hazel took a seat on the bottom step of the staircase. She pushed her chin into the palm of her hand and waited... and waited... and waited. It seemed that they were exchanging some rather harsh opinions as Maedhros seemed to almost be scolding Maglor who seemed to be cajoling him into what Hazel knew not. As they continued to fire verbal shots back and forth, Hazel was struck by how alike to her own brothers they were... and how ancient and fierce elven princes were still brothers who bickered with each other at heart.

Finally, it seemed that they reached an agreement and Maedhros... ever the leader, spoke for both. 

"We have decided to trust you at your word. We do not sense deceit in you, Lady Hazel. Your actions in binding us were justified and we shall not hold this in grudge. You may release us without fear."

Hazel paused, frozen in indecision. She wanted to believe him... she wanted to set them free... but she couldn't get the images out of her head; the pages and pages she read about the actions of those brothers haunted her. They murdered, stole, cut down any who stood in their path for a handful of jewels which were, no matter how precious to their father, should never have been deemed greater in value than the hundreds... maybe thousands of mortal and immortal lives that were lost over them. 

"You are afraid," Maglor spoke softly. "You know of our story and thus... you are afraid of us."

"I... um..."

"If we wished you harm," Maedhros spoke down to Hazel as if he were chastising a child, "then we would break out binds and slay you where you sit."

Hazel hastily stood and retreated two steps up, gun now pointed towards the rather angry, and still standing elf. She was terrified. _How can he go from calm and_ _calculating to furious and pompous in a matter of seconds?_

Maglor however barked something at his brother who retired equally shortly. Nevertheless, Maglor simply shook his head and moved- very slowly and deliberately, from his seated position to kneeling with one knee up. He ignored the angry protests from his brother and instead stared at Hazel, locking his eyes to hers and spoke in a calm and measured voice, more musical than Hazel had ever heard in all her years.

"I, Maglor Kanafinwe Makalaure Feanorian, hereby swear before the witness of Eru Iluvatar... or if he has no hold over this realm then upon whatever remains of mine own honor, that I shall endeavor not to harm you, Lady Hazel, so long as your intentions towards myself and my brother remain amicable."

Hazel froze in shock as Maedhros, after glaring for a long time at his brother who refused to look away from Hazel, eventually fell to his knee and repeated the oath, word for word with only his name changed. Hazel's hold on her gun loosened until it slipped from her fingers and hung only by its shaft. 

"I... you..." she cleared her throat, but her voice still shook. "Do you not tire of oaths?"

"This is one that requires no bloodshed, only peace," Maglor spoke sagely. 

Hazel searched through the words of his oath, attempting to find any break or chink in it... something that her pre-law friend Megan would scoff at... but she found nothing. This lead to her drawing forth her pocket knife and slowly approaching Maglor. He obligingly turned, offering up his bound arms and exposing his back to her. She pretended that her hands weren't shaking as she carefully cut through the ropes. 

Once freed, Maglor moved slowly and with great care. He deliberately moved his arms forward, stretching and rubbing lightly at the already fading marks on his wrists. He smiled and thanked Hazel, gently before flicking his eyes between Hazel and Maedhros. The implications as clear and Hazel knew that Maglor could easily push past her and free his brother himself, but instead was choosing to ask for her to do so. She figured that he was trying to allow for her to make the action in an effort to gain her trust. Thus, she moved to the eldest Feanorian who very reluctantly turned. 

Hazel looked at the ugly red markings across Maedhros' neck, wrists, and arms from where he clearly struggled far more than Maglor. She carefully sawed at the paracord, taking great efforts to not touch any of the pale skin before her. 

The instant he was freed he turned around, eyes still glaring daggers at his brother as it seemed he did not approve of the oath that both of them swore. Maglor, for his part, ignored this glare and stood gracefully, walking forward until he and his brother were shoulder to shoulder.

"Judging by your amount of shock, I would assume that two Eldar walking about, _Earth,_ " Maglor spoke the word with more strain than strictly necessary, "would cause some amount of distress."

"Ya..." Hazel nodded, a worrisome thought suddenly in her head. "You'd probably get nabbed by the government and dragged away to who knows where. I'm sure there would be hundreds of scientists wanting to study you two."

"Then we shall endeavor to remain unknown to the other Edain," Meadhros said. "You say that there is no other man living near your dwelling?"

"You can't just live in the woods," she blurted out, horrified by the concept of the pair of them, with no other supplies save their daggers and a small sack that Maglor had carried, trying to live in the woods in the midst of a snowstorm that was getting worse by the hour. 

"My apologies," he spoke stiffly. "These are your lands and you do not like others on them."

"No no no," she held up her hands. "That's not what I meant at all." Hazel paused deeply, she already knew that she would regret her words before they finished leaving her mouth. "What I'm trying to say is that the weather is terrible and the two of you cannot survive out there alone. You can stay here with me until we figure out how to get you back to Middle Earth."

"You would open up your home to us?" Maglor spoke incredulously. "You would offer shelter to two Eldar Kinslayers who you fear?"

"There's nowhere else for you to go," Hazel shrugged weakly. The same annoyingly sympathetic part of her conscious that convinced her to drag two insane poachers into her Uncle's cabin to ride out the storm now prodded her to help the lost elves. For all that they had done, for all that they were... it's not like they did anything against her? Plus, Hazel knew that if they wandered about, they would inevitably be caught by less sympathetic people than her and she couldn't bare the thought of the two beings turned into lab rats to be poked and prodded. Aside from her, what were their options?

The brothers conversed, arguing a bit once more before they made up their mind- far more quickly than the last time. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the pair both placed one hand outstretched and bowed their heads, Maedhros more stiffly than Maglor, and spoke. 

"We thank you for your kindness and generosity, Lady Hazel." 

Hazel smiled, instantly recognizing the gesture.

"You're welcome... I think we got off to a pretty bad start, so let's begin again." She chuckled a little bit at their mild confused expression, but she couldn't stop the smile that split her face when she bowed, one hand over her heart as she said the words that she had been dying to say since she first fell in love with Tolkien's works. 

"Mae l'ovannen, I eneth nîn Hazel Lee. Nathlo." As she rose from her bow, her chuckles became full laughter at the confused and shocked expression on both brothers' faces.

"Gellon len covad," Maedhros replied eventually. 

"Well then," Hazel clapped her hands together with a sharp inhale. "Let's go upstairs because this basement is freezing. Are you guys hungry? I think I still have chili in the slow cooker."

Both brothers looked to each other for a moment before blinking and wordlessly following Hazel up the stairs. When she was halfway up however, a thought suddenly struck her. 

"Wait," she turned so sharply that Maglor must have feared she would fall for he made a motion as if to catch her. "How do you guys speak English?"

The brothers gave identical shrugs.

"Okay... I suppose it's not the weirdest thing that's happened today..."

They walked up the stairs and Hazel flicked the lights back on, causing Meadhros to reach his left hand suddenly to his belt where his sword usually sat. Hazel paid it no mind as she wandered over to the decently sized kitchen, opening the lid to the crock pot and stirring the chili gently. It was still hot and she figured that it was the best that she could do on such short notice. Moving on autopilot, she grabbed the remote to her record player and turned it on before reaching into one of the oak cabinets and pulling down three bowls which she began to fill with chili. She then filled the electric kettle with water from the sink and plugged it in, steam immediately rising as the water rapidly boiled. She then turned to the fridge to grab juice, milk, and cheese. Once the kettle beeped, she poured off the water into three mugs, each with a teabag. Her rather hasty dinner was ready.

When she turned back to the Feanorians however, she saw them both frozen in place. Their eyes were blown wide. Meadhros was still watching steam rise from the electric kettle on the granite countertop while Maglor had his gaze glued to the record player where Diana Damrau was belting out Der Hölle Rache from Queen of the Night.

"Oh... ya," Hazel mumbled, embarrassed by how stupid she was. In her haste to serve the hot food, she completely missed that the elves would probably take a bit of adjustment to understand all her appliances and the general concept of electricity. "So... we can talk about it over food. Chili?"

_Well this is gonna be a looooong chat..._


	4. Chapter 4

"So... yup," Hazel watched as the elves barely picked at the definitely not canned chili that she served them. "That's pretty much how electricity works..."

Dinner turned into a very long affair as after reluctantly returning their things, she was forced to launch into a full explanation on electricity- _no it's not sorcery and I'm not a witch so Meadhros PLEASE put your sword down and don't destroy my refrigerator_. She then had to further explain the concept of a world filled only with humans and how there were a lot more of them than all the races of Middle Earth combined... _Maglor that's the kettle beeping... I promise it's not an omen from Morgoth._ Add in the fact that she accidentally mentioned that there really aren't kingdoms anymore and that most people consider monarchies to be archaic and boy was _that_ one heck of a tangent- _well Maehdros, if you think that's stupid then tough... this ain't your world and thus you really don't have any involvement in government anyway._

Somehow though, they eventually got to the point where she had explained _just_ enough to where there was a decent chance that the ancient elves wouldn't destroy anything in the cabin out of alarm. At her annoyed glare, they finished their food and allowed Hazel to load the dishes into the dishwasher, intent on running it later when they accumulated more. 

Once dinner was done though, they came to that weird and awkward pause that is inevitable whenever one has uninvited guests. Usually at home, Hazel would turn on the tv. In the cabin however, there was no tv and thus she would usually curl up with a book... but such seemed a bit rude when she had company who may or may not decide to murder her. In the end, she settled for brewing yet more tea so that she had at least something to occupy herself with. She thought back to the coaching that her mother often gave her, instructions on how to handle social interaction wit the proper grace of an adult. 

_Make conversation..._ her mother's voice seemed to bug and so she did... to her best attempt. 

"So... how fare the twins?" she asked with no small amount of hesitancy in her voice. Although speaking about the children who they technically kidnapped after running their mother off a cliff was hardly a polite conversation subject... Hazel couldn't think of any safer option. She surly couldn't ask them about their family- all dead, their occupations- kinslayers?, their childhood- talk about daddy issues... so she supposed that their sorta kids was the best option. 

"How much do you know?" Maedhros inquired, eyes sharply appraising Hazel in a way that made her feel like he was searching for something deeper within her. 

"I know... a lot about you guys... more than I think you'd like me to know."

He nodded and they lapsed into an awkward silence broken only by the sound of Hazel slurping her hot tea. She sat down on the couch, crossed her legs, and glanced at the elves over the rim of her cup. 

Now, Hazel had never been one to stare at people for their appearance. Generally she wasn't easily distracted by guys or their features... but these elves were something else. Yes, she had seen attractive men before... but nothing like these elves. Especially Maedhros. Hazel completely understood why his mother had named him "well shaped one" for he was more breathtakingly beautiful than any man or woman that she had ever met. His skin was the pale color of creme, his hair was a long and lustrous bound of russet waves, and his facial structure was perfectly proportioned in every way... The way he held himself too held such pride and honor. If one didn't know him to be royalty, they would certainly assume it from the casual grace he seemed to exude. He was the type who could stand up on a rock and in a single speech could rouse and army to war. 

"Is there something you find particular fascinating about my face?" Maedhros questioned, a hint of... sarcasm, perhaps in his voice. 

Hazel blushed furiously at being caught saying, instantly incredibly interested in the liquid sliding around her mug. She was doing her absolute best to stare intently at said liquid when she saw Maglor elbow Maedhros from the corner of her eye. 

"I... uh- I didn't mean-"

"We understand that you meant to offense," Maglor spoke peacefully with a small smile on his lips. "Edain are always shocked the first time they met the Eldar and Maedhros, well as I'm sure you can assume from his epesse, tends to receive more attention than most."

"Er... right. So- sorry, I'm not quite sure what to do now... hosting elven princes isn't a task I'm very accustom to."

"Might I ask a question?" Maglor said. 

"Of course."

"Earlier, that box," he pointed to the old record player in the corner, "played music and a voice singing... but there appears to be no one else here. How?"

"Oh," Hazel lit up with delight. If there was one thing that she loved in that old cabin it was the record player that her Uncle first used to introduce her to the beauty of opera and classical theatre. She bounced over to the record player and went into a detailed description on how the machine used tiny grooves in the vinyl as a sort of code to create sounds. She then showed them how to manually turn it on and watched as Maglor's eyes went wide... most especially when she described how sound could be recorded.

"Could you... would you mind playing it for us?" Maglor's face held so much excitement that Hazel almost squealed in delight. 

Of course, with him being perhaps the most famous minstrel to ever live, it made sense that he was so fascinated with the music player. She was more than happy to play some music from it for them to listen to and she ended up playing Der Hölle Rache from the beginning. Both Maglor and Maedhros' eyes went wide as the soprano rose up higher and higher, the fast tempo of the song driving out the tension. Upon the song finishing, both elves applauded joyfully, complementing the singer and players. 

"I've never heard instruments such as those! What was being played?"

"You're probably talking about the Brass section... I don't think you guys have anything close to brass instruments."

"What is the song about?" Maglor continued his questions. 

"Oh!" Hazel was pleasantly surprised as so often when she attempted to share her love of opera... she was met with people who were entirely unintended because they couldn't understand the words. Of course, it really ant that hard to look them up and she loved learning the stories behind operas. "Well the opera takes place in a magical world and in that aria, the Queen of the Night places a knife in her daughter's hand and orders her to slay her rival or else she will abandon her daughter and forsake her. It's a terrible oath for her daughter to take as she has already-" 

Hazel almost continued her explanation, but was hit with the awkward pause when she realized that she was sorta treading into sensitive waters... _A parent convincing a child to take up an oath of_ _vengeance... involving murder... okay we're hitting close to home._

She once again took a great interest in her cup of tea as the brothers began to convert in Quenya. While she understood that this was a weird situation for them, it was also a really weird situation for her and she really was getting irritated with them constantly speaking in a language that she couldn't understand.

"Soooooo... are you guys gossiping about me or just not wanting to let me in on what's going on?"

The brothers had at least the decency to look chastised as Maedhros awkwardly cleared his throat. He glanced to his brother first before speaking.

"Our apologies, we had no intention to offend," he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "We were just searching for the most polite way to inquire... as to where the... washroom would be... and if perhaps- you could spare a few bowls of warm water for us to... clean."

Hazel did a bit more of a serious appraisal of their condition as she moved away from analyzing if they were going to kill her to examining their overall appearance. Both elves were filthy, obviously having spent a decent amount of time in the wilds before she dragged them to her basement. The braids in their hair were coming undone, dirt smeared their skin, and their cloths was all ragged and torn. 

"Oh... okay well let me show you guys the bathroom and then you can take a bath or shower," Hazel smiled a bit when she realized how these tough, warrior princes were a bit prudish and felt awkward asking a "lady" for such things.

"Oh no, we don't mean to impose. A simple bowl of water will be sufficient," Maglor looked horrified at her suggestion. 

Hazel paused and then realized why he was so mortified by the concept of them taking a bath. They were both from a time when if someone wanted to take a bath... then that meant that someone else had to boil water over a stove and haul it to a tub. She laughed aloud that time as she realized what they thought she was offering to do. 

"Don't worry guys, getting clean is a lot easier in the 21st century. Follow me." 

She decided to take them to the second story bathrooms as the ensuite of the room opposite of hers had a much larger shower than the downstairs one. The two elves, who she had already instructed to remove their shoes whilst inside, followed her up the stairs and marveled once more at the electric lights. She led them to the room and into the bathroom, taking a staying breath to calm herself before she began speaking as delicately as she could. 

"So..." she pointed at the toilet. "This is where you can take care of your... business. Stuff goes into the toilet and once you're done you can use that paper and _only_ that paper to clean up. You toss the paper into the toilet and push that lever." She pushed the lever and watched as Maglor flinched slightly at the sound of the toilet as it flushed. She then showed them how to operate the sink and instead that NO, the foamy soap that smelled like gingerbread was _not_ a type of poison.

"Alright and for cleaning up there're two options," she walked over to the show/tub and demonstrated the levers for hot and cold, explaining how they had to wait a few seconds for the hot water to come to temperature, but then they could adjust as they wished. "Now if you put the plug in then you can fill up the tub, but if you take the plug out and pull this lever than the water comes down from there and you get a shower!"

She was met with mostly puzzled expressions on the faces of the elves, but they seemed to get the main idea. Hazel left them for a moment to go pick up some towels and returned to Maglor standing half bent and with water dripping from his hair. It took every bit of self control in Hazel to resist laughing at the way he looked like a drowned cat as she handed off the towels and suggested that Maedhros choose a shower as there was no way he would be able to comfortably contort himself into the tub. She also pulled out bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, explaining the purpose of each.

"Alright... so clothes... ya I don't have anything that you guys can fit into... maybe a bathrobe for Maglor but I've got nothing close to Maedhros. Oh, just toss your clothes into the hallway and give me a shout when it's ready. I'll wash and dry it while you guys shower."

"We truly don't mean to-"

"I've got machines to do that as well. It's no trouble."

The brothers thanked her and she left to fetch the bathrobe, dropping it off and waiting for the shout to indicate that a pile dirty laundry was waiting for her. She collected the clothes and tossed it into the washer, plopping down on her couch with a book that she was desperately pretending to read as she tried to keep images of the elves showering out of her mind. 

After a slightly concerning amount of time, she heard the upstairs door open and saw Maglor descending the stairs wrapped tightly in her big brother's red bathrobe. _Fitting color,_ her mind supplied as he made his way down the stairs still drying his hair. She did her absolute best to not look at the spot where the robe was loose around his chest and slipping somewhat along the impossibly smooth skin. Part of Hazel was incredibly curious about the elves and their absolute perfection... their features were simply ethereal... they weren't just beautiful, but they were supernaturally so. Hazel couldn't figure out if it made them attractive or terrifying. 

"Sorry, but might I trouble you for a comb?"

"Sure," Hazel dug through a couple drawers until she came out with a brush. 

The clothes would be done washing soon so all she had to do was toss it in the dryer and then the elves would have something clean, if a bit uncomfortable, to wear to bed that night. She set Maglor and Maedhros up in one of the downstairs bedrooms that had two queen beds in it before wishing them goodnight and turning off the lights on her way upstairs. 

When Hazel finally had a chance to shower she did so blankly, chucking her clothes into her hamper and collapsing on her bed. Looking at the time, it was almost 1 am in the morning and she was exhausted.

That night, as she laid in bed slowly falling asleep, part of Hazel became convinced that this was all just the weirdest dream that she had ever had... and that the next morning she would wake up to an empty cabin. It was with that pleasant thought that she fell into an easy slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He he, awkward conversations with some very very old fashioned elves.


	5. Chapter 5

Hazel woke up slowly, birdsong from outside her window seemed to call her forth as she sat up, pulling her covers with her. Her room was cold, but surprisingly less so then she was used to when waking up after a snowstorm. She quickly changed into a thick pair of jeans and a fleece sweater before pulling back her curtains to view the outside. 

_Wow_

She was greeted with a thick blanket of pure white. As far as she could see, the snow had fallen well over a foot deep leaving a gorgeously pristine white expanse before her eyes. The morning sun was shining happily, but did little to disturb the coatings of snow which covered the trees. If she craned her neck, she could see her little car buried in the snow on the road that was now entirely useless as there was no way that she would be able to get anywhere. 

Sighing heavily, Hazel slipped on a pair of fuzzy socks and house slippers with the intention of shuffling down the stairs to make a morning mug of tea and some breakfast. She had spent the entire previous day trapping through the snow to check for storm damages and had fallen asleep only to have the weirdest dream. She shook her head as she recalled something about elves from Middle Earth and murderous ones at that. Hazel chuckled lightly to herself as she realized that she had been spending way too much time listening to Riley rant about Tolkien and that she really needed to get a life outside of classes. 

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Hazel turned to rekindle the ashes that had likely gone out in the fireplace... only to find a cheery fire already blazing. She paused and stared at the flames completely dumbfounded for several moments. She was _sure_ that she hadn't put that much wood on the fire the night before. There was no way that her pitiful logs that she had barely managed to chop with the rush of arriving had stayed lit all night. For a brief moment, Hazel wondered what time she got to bed the night before. _Did I really get that little sleep?_

Just as she gave up on trying to figure out the mysterious fire and decided to merely appreciate its warmth, she turned and crashed into a very solid wall.

Only the wall was warm. 

It wasn't there two seconds ago.

And it was _very_ much alive. 

"Lady Hazel," a deep and melodic voice spoke slowly, not at all startled with her face in his chest- or really, upper stomach. "We were hoping that once you awoke, you would teach us how it is you use this... kettle."

Looking up, Hazel found herself gazing at the face of Maedhros Feanorian... 

_Shit_

"Oh... that was real..." her brain, still semi caught in the fog of sleep was attempting to catch up with what was clear before her eyes. Everything the previous day had actually occurred... it wasn't some weird dream... she had two ancient kin-slaying elves in her Uncle's cabin. 

"What was real?" Maedhros looked decently confused, but Hazel waved off his question and took the kettle out of his hand, walking towards its base still sitting on the counter. 

"So I suppose you guys want breakfast. Eggs, sausage, and toast sound good?"

"That would be most of kind of you," Maglor, who was sitting at the counter, smiled brightly. 

As Hazel set about scrambling half a dozen eggs for her and her guests, she watched Maedhros from the corner of her eye. The older elf was walking the perimeter of the cabin. He pulled back each curtain and tapped on the glass, examining the seams and checking the locks. He moved methodically, not leaving a single section of the wall uninspected. 

"He's checking for security," Maglor explained. "It was a caution that we neglected last night and we apologize for that."

"It's pretty isolated up here. I'm sure we're fine."

"We know not how we arrived... but if Morgoth had a hand in it..." Maglor trailed off as if not wanting to finish the thought. 

Hazel nodded in agreement and continued cooking the eggs whilst trying to ensure that the sausage didn't burn in the other pan. She began humming idly to herself as she fell into the familiar routine. Maglor's gaze was burning into her however and she finally looked up to see an expression of unease across the elf's face. 

"Yes?" she asked, fidgeting only slightly. 

"I'm sorry," he placed a hand over his heart and appeared genuinely concerned. "But is there anything that we may do to assist you? We are unused to this world and its many strange, mannish inventions... but you are but a lone maiden and it is wrong of us to impose ourselves upon you as such."

Hazel was momentarily stunned by the genuine kindness and concern in the elf's voice. He had obviously picked up on the fact that she didn't have a clue what she was doing. But, this elf had held an invasion prone land for nearly four thousand years, his brother was High King of the Noldor, and now they were stuck in a world where they couldn't even work a stove with only one overly caffeinated college student as their guide. Poor Maglor must have felt incredibly lost. 

"It's really okay," she smiled. "I mean... it's not your guys' fault that you're in my world and I'm not leaving you to the wolves- _metaphorical_ wolves, relax- And anyway... not gonna lie I'm really curious about both of you and always thought that it would be cool to meet characters from the books so this situation really isn't all that bad for me. Hey look! Breakfast is ready!"

Hazel stumbled through her last words just as Maedhros seemed to decide that there were no orcs about to break through any of her windows. The older elf joined Hazel and Maglor at the counter, complimenting Hazel on her only _slightly_ rubbery eggs... but apparently elves didn't have pesto so the canned pesto that she mixed into the eggs fascinated both elves. 

"So do you truly live alone up here, Lady Hazel?" Maedhros asked, polite curiosity coloring his tone. 

"Not all the time, this is just a vacation spot. I was supposed to be staying with some of my friends but they all bailed on me. Also, just call me Hazel. No one uses those titles anymore."

"But if your friends aren't to be living with you-" Maglor seemed mildly concerned. 

"Yup, just me and the ghost."

"These lands are haunted!" Maedhros startled, hand reaching towards his sword. He swung his head back and forth, scanning the kitchen and living room as if a phantom would suddenly appear. Hazel startled a bit in alarm at his movement, but eventually fell into a fit of giggles. 

"No, don't worry," she paused, trying to catch her breath as she keeled over in laughter. "I was just joking... it's an old family legend. This cabin has been in the family for generations and all the grandparents swear that there's a ghost living on these lands. It's a fun story that we continue to pass on."

"Ghosts are not to be trifled with," Maedhros still appeared wary as his hand remained hovering above his sword, but he did manage to sit down whilst exchanging a wary look with Maglor.

"Okkayyy-"

Maedhros then turned from Hazel and began a rather animated conversation with Maglor in Quenya whilst Hazel found herself growing in concern. There seemed to be a rather firm disagreement between the two and just based off of their tone, they were moving past the level of a polite "disagreement" and more into the zone of "brotherly pissing contest." Hazel wasn't quite certain if she should make some popcorn and settle in for a show, or step in before one of the brothers (probably Maedhros) decides to go ghost-busting with a sword. 

After several "polite" coughs, Maedhros made one last, rather smug sounding, comment to his brother before turning to Hazel with an overly pleasant smile on his face. 

"I shall head out to check the perimeter and search for any signs of how my brother and I arrived in this world. I shall be back by nightfall and Maglor shall stay with you in case of any dangers."

Hazel's brows climbed as she took in the sight of the seven foot something elf standing with his one hand on his sword hilt. She scanned him up and down, seeing that he had at some point re-strapped all his daggers on and was fully dressed aside from his boots. She then flicked her eyes over to Maglor who she only now noticed also wore his sword. Maedhros looked like he was ready for war, and Maglor seemed convinced that the local cougars were about to double in size. 

"Listen- there's not actually a-"

"We are concerned that fell creatures of Morgoth may have followed us through whatever portal brought us here. Maedhros will be fine on his own and I shall protect you here."

Before Hazel could object again, a wave of seriousness passed where she realized that it was absolutely possible that orcs were roaming the property. Of course, 24 hours ago she would've thought such things to be mad, but 24 hours ago she also didn't have centuries old kinslayers in her Uncle's cabin so... the rules of reality were obviously changeable. 

"Okay... okay, sure," she found herself fumbling as she wandered back into the kitchen. Turning to look at Maedhros, she considered him before continuing, "at lest let me pack you some food if you're planning on being out all day." She began rifling through cabinets, trying to figure out what kind of food she could pack with him. "You know, Maglor can go with you... I'm sure two is better than one if you end up fighting any... creatures... and I can take care of myself."

"You can fight an orc?"

"Shut up," she snapped back. Maedhros seemed momentarily stunned by her sharp barb, but Maglor chuckled with no small amount of amusement. 

She eventually scrounged up some salami, cheese, and couple of dinner rolls which she wrapped in a lunchpail, explained the use of a zipper, and tied off with a string on the handle so that Maedhros could tie the pail to his belt as he refused a backpack. Maedhros made one final check of his gear before grasping his brother's shoulder and sharing one last message in Quenya. They stared deeply into each others' eyes and spoke a set of words with their foreheads nearly pressed together. Maedhros then turned to Hazel, bid her farewell, drew his sword, and walked out into the snow. 

This left Maglor and Hazel. 

Totally not awkward at all...

"Is there any way that I might assist you?" he asked, as polite as ever. 

Hazel was a bit lost as usually at this point in the day of her vacation she would be reading a book or going for a pleasant hike. However, reading would just seem awkward with Maglor hanging over her shoulder and hiking was pretty much out of the question if there was a chance of encountering orcs. To top it off, she had an elf who wanted to be helpful... but nothing really for him to be helpful with. An absurd image of Maglor dressed in a potato sack, like a house elf, begging to be of use crossed Hazel's mind and she once again stifled the urge to laugh. 

"La... er... Hazel?" he spoke in concern and Hazel realized that in an effort to avoid laughing, she was turning a rather alarming shade of red. 

"I'm fine," came out a bit more forced than could be considered natural, but she eventually reigned herself in. "Well... if you want to be helpful... I could show you how to use the kitchen?"

"I would be most grateful."

"Alright... let's bake lemon poppy cake! My mom's recipe if always the best!"

And well... they did bake chocolate chip cookies... and they did follow Hazel's mom's recipe... but they didn't quite turn out exactly as they had been made in the past. To start off, Hazel had no idea how to explain to Maglor what a cup or a teaspoon was... just that they sold measuring cups and if it said that it was a "cup" then it was the same as what the recipe called a "cup." The next snag that they had was when Hazel went to the bathroom and came back to Maglor loading wood into the oven... and ya... that went about as well as one could imagine. The highlight of the baking however, was probably when it came time to use the hand mixer. 

"Wait!" Hazel cried in alarm as Maglor reached for the whisk arms on the hand mixer. "Rule number one of using an electric mixer," she dug through a drawer until she came to a spare hair tie. "You _always_ tie your hair up."

Maglor had a mildly confused expression on his face, one that was quickly becoming a permanent fixture, as Hazel stood on her tip toes in order to gather his hair at the nape of his neck and tie it off. When she first touched his dark locks, he flinched back almost violently, but quickly apologized and allowed her to tie off his hair. She frowned slightly at his reaction, but was quickly distracted by her glaze on the stove bubbling a bit too violently. She rushed over to stir it and mix in the gelatin, not looking back as she called instructions over her shoulder. 

"Just stick the whisking arms into the bowl and press the red button," she turned down the stove with one hand and lifted the pot in an attempt to keep the sugar from boiling over with the other. Then, of course she ended up elbowing the bowl of lemon peel and almost toppling it over before she thought to add on the number two rule of using and electric mixer. "Just make sure to use a towel to cover the-"

**_Poof_ **

The mixer turned on and a massive cloud of flour flew into the air just as Hazel turned to check on a now rather sheepish looking Maglor. He had the mixer on high and placed it directly into the bowl without a cover... resulting in a massive cloud of flour which left a thin layer everywhere. Hazel tried to wipe a bit of flour from her forehead, but only succeeded in smearing it further. 

"I... oh my I... my sincerest apologies... I had no intention to-"

Hazel held up her hand to cut him off. She scanned her eyes up and down the elf, taking in the sight. There before her stood Maglor Feanorian, second son of Feanor, greatest minstrel of the Noldor, Lord of Maglor's Gap: covered head to toe in a fine layer of flour, hair tied back into a messy tail, and wearing the apron that Hazel's uncle received as a gag gift three christmases ago with an arrow pointing down and bold lettering declaring "may I suggest the sausage" (and boy was Hazel glad that elves apparently didn't understand innuendo). She couldn't help herself. With one hand still raised to signal Maglor to remain still and silent, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and snapped a picture of the scene. 

She then dissolved into a fit of giggles. 


	6. Chapter 6

After cleaning the kitchen and sending a furtively apologizing Maglor upstairs to shower, Hazel managed to finally wash all the batter out of her hair. As she wandered around her room towel drying her long, dark locks she came upon some old Christmas decorations still half packed away in a box. A small flight of fancy flickered in her heart as she picked up several lengths of gold ribbon and began to weave them into her hair, humming Joy to the World as she braided her damp hair away from her face. Once done, she changed into a pair of jeans and a warm flannel before walking back downstairs. 

It took a decently longer amount of time for the elf to finish washing, but he too eventually wandered down the stairs and joined Hazel nursing her third cup of tea for the morning. The poor elf still looked absolutely wretched, though his hair somehow magically looked perfect despite being damp and sticking to his shoulders. His cloths of course was still in the wash and thus he was back to wearing a ridiculous red robe that was honestly too short for him. Once more, Hazel ensured her eyes were firmly fixed on the elf's face and not his long, pale legs. 

"My lady Hazel... again, I truly-"

"Don't sweat it. It's practically a right of passage in the baking world to start the whisk on high and throw flour everywhere," she waved away his concerns gestured to the seat across from her. 

He picked up his harp and sat down, ducking his head and twisting the small metal pegs. Every now and them, he would reach out one of his long, slim fingers and pluck a single chord, humming lightly until his pitch matched it. He continued with with for some time until an idea popped into Hazel's mind. She smiled and interrupted his tuning of the harp. 

"Do you know what Tolkien, the guy who wrote the books with you and your brothers in them... do you know what he said about you?"

Maglor looked up in alarm, eyes wide with concern and Hazel nearly slapped her forehead with how stupid she was. 

"No no, not about that," she soothed. "I mean about your skills. He called you the greatest bard of the Noldor."

A small smile spread across Maglor's face at that and he hummed lightly in appreciation. His slim fingers plucked a few more chords as he stared at his harp as if asking it for the right words. Eventually, he turned to face Hazel once more. 

"My brother would be pleased to hear that I have a reputation. He has always loved the fame our family received for talents..."

"And you?"

"I find it flattering, but it means little. I play for passion, because when I sing I can feel a connection to the Music."

"Could you play something for me?"

"Of course," his smile grew and Hazel couldn't help but grin as well. "What shall I play for you?"

"Well I don't speak Quenya... so anything really will do. How about something that tells a story!" Hazel perked up with the thought. 

"I thought you didn't speak Quenya?"

"I don't need to speak it to understand it," she smiled. Though Hazel spoke not a single word of Italian, she loved opera. Her mother used to play it around the house and she grew up with that music ringing in her ears. Something about the story telling nature... how one could experience, not just understand, but live through a tale without the need of speaking the language was absolutely magical. 

"I'm sure I could think of something," with those words Maglor turned his attention to his harp. He began to slowly strum a few cords, his fingers caressing each note from the harp. 

For a while he just played, silver cords echoing through the room as Hazel slowly fell under the spell of elvish music. The notes began hopeful, an echoing of joy and peace. Slowly, the elf lifted his head and, with his eyes closed, opened his mouth to sing. The words which cured forth were beautiful and serene. Hazel could feel them carrying her to a place of peace... of paradise. There was something ethereal in the notes as she imagined herself surrounded by verdant hillsides and flowers blossoming beneath a gentle sun. 

Then, the notes took a turn. They became lower, darker. They spoke of deception, of lies, and of death. She felt her heartbeat tremble as a small lament of mourning fluttered across the strings before tones of anger and rage took over. But now, something was missing from the music... a piece of that lovely and peaceful landscape was gone- taken, leaving a furious and shaken song in its wake. 

The next notes came and they were unsteady, unsure. Maglor's voice wavered between peaceful and violent... it was the music of decisions being made, of choices that already carried a foreshadowing darkness. Hazel watched in fascination as Maglor's facial expressions matched his music- how he changed from hesitant to furious to resigned. Then, the beat picked up. The chords being plucked had a hint of bounce to them... it was an adventure- a journey. The journey music lasted for some time- reminding Hazel of all those operas where the hero goes on their quest, seeking out the reward promised to them. Danger and uncertainty lurked ahead, but they pushed on. 

There was a pause... an ominous creeping tone wove its way in with sharp, whistling notes like the winds of an eerie shoreline. The tempo picked up, racing with anxiety and fear. Maglor's song became more complex, chords being plucked so quickly that Hazel could hardly tell when one note began and another ended. The strings of his harp were thrumming almost violently as his tone rose in pitch and fervor. The music was beautiful, haunting, and utterly chaotic. She could feel the tension riding up her spine as Maglor's voice rose higher and higher. 

Silence. 

The music of his harp ended and there was a beat of emptiness, where tension and nothingness hung around them in the air. Then, Maglor's voice rose up, first soft and then slowly rising in volume as he sang a lament so mournful, so powerfully beautiful, that Hazel lost all track of time. She wasn't sure how long his mournful dirge lasted, it could have easily been but a few minutes, or it could've been years trapped in the web o this voice. Eventually, the harp came back in to accompany Maglor's singing, but the tender sorrow in his tone dominated the finale as he ended with one last, lingering note of dropping pitch. 

When he finished, he placed his harp down and looked up. The movement was enough to jolt Hazel back into reality as she moved as if she had just awoken from a deep sleep. She had no words to describe the emotions whirling through her, but as she lifted a hand to her cheek, she found tears sliding down her face. 

"My apologies, I didn't think you would understand and I didn't mean to cause you distress. I'm truly-"

"That," Hazel paused, inhaling deeply as she attempted to lasso the thoughts swirling through her head. "That was- that was the Noldolante... wasn't it?"

"You claimed you don't speak-"

"I know your story... the Kinslaying... the song that you wrote about it..." she paused, once again trying to corral her thoughts. "That was, I think the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Hazel swore that she spotted a red flush across Maglor's cheeks as he turned his head to the side and smiled. When he turned to face her again, his expression was once more that peaceful caution that he seemed to normally wear. One hand still lovingly stroked his harp as a small grin broke out across his face. 

"Would you like to learn how to play?"

"Really?!" Hazel could hardly believe her ears. "You- you'd teach me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Hazel's face broke into what she was certain was a ridiculously large smile, but she couldn't be bothered to care. The greatest minstrel of the Noldor wanted to teach her how to play his harp. He repositioned himself closer to her on the couch and plopped his harp into her lap. 

Hazel froze in place, her hands hovering a foot away from the precious instrument. It was metal, yet somehow as light as a feather pillow. Precious gems were wrought into the frame and the strings glistened like tiny streams of silver and gold. She felt like it was piece of art, a precious sculpture that belonged ing the Louvre and certainly not in her hands. Maglor seemed to sense this sentiment as he laughed gently. 

"This harp is of elvish make and has endured the hands of overenthusiastic elflings. You will not damage it by playing it."

He then gently took Hazel's hands and laid them in their proper place atop the strings. Hazel did her best to ignore his proximity to her as he used his own fingers to gently nudge hers into place. With enough soft words of encouragement from Maglor, it wasn't long until she was clumsily strumming the chords in something that resembled a melody. It was a lucky thing that music is such a universal language for all Hazel's years of piano lessons seemed to have paid off. 

Eventually, one she had a good rhythm down, Maglor began to sing. This time Hazel had no idea what she was playing or what he was singing, but it seemed happy and jovial. She could see a hint of a smirk in Maglor's eyes as her confidence in the new instrument grew. The further she got in the song, the more little tricks and complex chord patterns she would add in. 

They had a merry little tune going, smiles on both faces as she strummed away at the harp. Her fingers where increasing in speed whilst Maglor's voice rose. They were having such a good time, that neither noticed that someone was home until the door to the cabin flew open. Hazel's back was to it, but the relaxed expression on Maglor's face was enough to indicate who it was at the door. Before Hazel could turn to greet him however, Maedhros spoke in a quiet and almost awed voice. 

"Findekano?" 

Hazel froze, the horrified expression on Maglor's face was enough to tel her what had happened. One hand then flew to her hair with those stupid gold ribbons braided in, the other clenched her chest as she realized what she just did. Hazel turned and saw how Maedhros' entire expression fell in despair, then anger. Something told Hazel though, that that anger wasn't pointed at her. 

"The perimeter is clear, though I still plan on checking the boarders again tomorrow," he spoke in a frighteningly dull and monotone voice before kicking his boots off and racing up the stairs at a speed that could just barely be considered decent. Maglor remained in place for a few moments before he stood and crossed the room, gently closing the front door and locking out the winter chill. 

He faced the door as if drawing strength or seeking solace from it before turning to Hazel, a sad and tight smile on his face. 

"My apologies, it's not your fault," he hesitated, looking up at the top of the staircase where Maedhros disappeared to. "He just... struggles at times. I should go check on him."

Hazel nodded wordlessly and watched as the other elf climbed the stairs. 

When they were both gone, she slowly unbraided her hair and balled the ribbons up, throwing them into the trash. Moving on autopilot, she moved to the kitchen and began to prepare dinner, all the while berating herself for her stupidity. 

She knew the pain of reopened wounds all too well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone isn't caught up on the mythology (which tbh I'm a but shaky in), Findekano is the Quenya name for Fingon. Fingon is a Feanorian cousin who was known to be a very close friend of Maedhros. He was the one who cut off Maedhros' hand in order to rescue him from the cliffs that Morgoth hung him from. He journeyed to save Maedhros alone and found him after he played his harp and Maedhros joined in with the song. Even though Maedhros begged Fingon to kill him, he instead rode upon a giant eagle to rescue him and thus reunited the Noldor. He was killed fighting Gothmog, lord of the Balrog's at a battle that Maedhros also fought in. 
> 
> He was known to wear his long, dark hair in braids with gold ribbons woven in so basically, seeing Hazel from behind with her hair plaited with gold ribbons and playing a harp triggered a memory of Fingon. He though for a split second that Fingon was still alive.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you've been enjoying the story! I just wanted to give a special thanks to everyone who has been leaving me such lovely comments. I really do appreciate them as they help me so much to stay motivated to write. I especially wanted to say this because I've been noticing a lot fewer comments on some of my other stories and it makes me worry that my stories are becoming too long/boring. 
> 
> But the last chapter in this one had so many wonderful comments and I'm so sorry it took son long to update, but I wanted this one to be just right.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you continue to read!

After about an hour of berating herself continuously for her own stupid mistake, Hazel gave up on the self loathing game and decided to begin cooking dinner. The baking had produced a barely edible loaf of bread and some passible cookies so she decided that the cookies would be for dessert. She then went to the pantry and contemplated what she could possibly make to feed two full grown elves. The night before, they had polished off her chili like it was nothing, so she knew that she would have to seriously worry about food supplies if they stayed for much longer. 

But, that was a problem for another day. Instead, she dug out enough supplies to make a chicken Alfredo with whole wheat pasta. She turned on her record player softly in the background as she roasted the chicken and dropped the pasta into a pot of boiling water. From there she began chopping veggies and pouring out ingredients for sauces. As she cooked, she found herself humming along the the music and lightly dancing back and forth in the kitchen. As usual, cooking helped to ease her stress as the day's worries melted away. She became lost in her own world and didn't come back to earth until the food was done. 

At that point, she hesitated. She had no idea what state Maedhros would be in and she was reluctant to move up the stairs to fetch the elves. She was also rather hungry and she knew that both Maedhros and Maglor would be as well. Hazel walked a few useless laps around her kitchen before finally calling softly, 

"Dinner's ready if you're up for it," her voice was soft but she knew that elvish ears were sharp. 

There was a pause where Hazel almost resigned herself to eating alone before a pair of elves silently glided down the stairs. Maglor looked as serene as even and Maedhros appeared to be back to his usual stoic self. Hazel was about to apologies when Maedhros beat her to it. 

"I would like to offer my sincerest apologies, Lady Hazel. When I saw you with your hair in those braids I was struck by a memory of-"

"Don't worry," Hazel cut him off with a sad smile. "It's really my fault... I should've thought of that before I- well I'm sorry."

"Let us move forward from here," Maglor said, already moving towards the counter to help Hazel move the large pots of dinner to the dining room table. After he assisted her in moving all the food to the table, they all sat down and began eating a rather awkward dinner. 

"So..." Hazel broke the awkward silence with a likely even more awkward interjection. "Find anything interesting on your scouting?"

"This is quite a beautiful land, but I did indeed hear the ghost which you spoke of-"

"Don't worry about it," she paused and sighed a little. "Sorry, I shouldn't have teased you, but there's no ghost."

"The sounds echoing from-"

"Yeah, the upper caves. Halfway up the mountain theres a series of caves. They're pretty open and when the wind blows through them just right... they make a sound that's almost like singing. My family's just always been fond of the tale and it was used to scare my parents and grandparents away from climbing the cliffside because it gets pretty treacherous and icy during the winter."

"And you are certain that this phantom is-" Hazel cut Maedhros off with a laugh. 

"I promise... it's a harmless story that we toss around whenever anything goes wrong around here. Tools left outside go missing? It's the ghost gathering supplies. Idiotic poacher gets spooked and falls down the cliffside? It's the ghost defending his home."

Maedhros looked a bit unconvinced and Hazel had to restrain herself from laughing at the uncertainty painted clearly across his face. But, in the end he relented with a solemn nod. 

"I shall trust you on this matter then... for now." A sharp glare from Maglor had him then continue. "But, I found no other sign of foul beasts."

"Good," dinner then lapsed back into an awkward silence. 

In truth, Hazel was incredibly relived to hear that the coast was clear. She had been trying her best to avoid thinking about the mess that she would potentially be in if orcs had followed the brothers through whatever weird rift in space time to get them to her world. Plus, she had things to do. After discovering the brothers she got completely side tracked on checking the property and there were a few areas where she was almost certain that the fencing was down. She needed to run some repairs and mark down whichever trees had fallen and figure if she needed to chop them up and haul them, or let them rot naturally. Basically... she had chores to do and orcs would really be an annoying inconvenience. 

Of course, the next day, both brothers protests rather loudly at the idea of her leaving on her own. They wanted someone to go with her as a "guard" as they believed that "no lady should wander the wilds unaccompanied." She responded first with an amused chuckle as she explained that she was perfectly capable of going out on her own property by herself, but that quickly evolved to a furious argument as their reasonings for her needing one of them became more and more patronizing. 

"My Lady Hazel-"

"Oh what've we talked about with this whole "my lady" business? I'm not a damn lady," she sneered, her temper was flaring, but Maedhros seemed undeterred. 

"I only wish to express my concern. There are dangers of the wild even aside from orcs... you shouldn't walk about unaccompanied as a young lady-"

"Oh we're going there? You think that I'm incompetent because I'm a lady?!"

"Yes, you are incompetent with a sword and any beast would easily be capable-"

"Oh you didn't just say that?! You've got to be freakin kidding me?!!! This land has been in my family for generations. I know it like the back of my hand, heck, I've been raised here. You haven't got a damn clue about what I'm capable of-"

"Please, I believe what my brother was trying to say-"

"Shut up Maglor, you're like 30 percent of the problem here," she snapped before turning her attention once more to the towering redhead. She walked the distance between them and jabbed her finger into his chest, sneering at his stoic glare. "I came up here to spend six weeks by myself. I didn't have a babysitter when I arrived and I certainly don't need the supervision of a pair of elves who I captured and tied up in my basement- or did you forget that I caught both you and your brother?"

"I was unconscious when you bound me-"

"But it still happened. As you can see, I'm perfectly capable."

With those words, Hazel considered the conversation over and continued packing her backpack with supplies for her excursion. She finished by slinging her gun across her shoulder and leaving the Feanorians with one last threat to not follow her. While Maglor seemed thoroughly chastised and apologetic, Maedhros was standing with his arms crossed and that glare which said "you're doing this against my better judgment and my better judgment is always right," a look that Hazel swore he stole from her dad. 

Either way, Hazel was glad to finally get out of the cabin and walk through the woods. She breathed the scent of the clean snow deeply and relished the crispness of the air and the beauty of solitude. Oh don't get her wrong, she was pretty excited about meeting the two elves and loved learning from them. Just the sheer idea that Tolkien's works were there in front of her, alive in flesh and blood was astounding. Her mind was still reeling a bit from the realization that yes, those fantasy characters were real and present. They opened up so many more questions about the universe, about all her perceptions of reality. 

But, they were also incredibly overpowering to be around. They were both very tall, very strong, and had an aura of otherworldliness beauty. It may sound like paradise to be surrounded by beautiful, chivalrous men, but it was also incredibly exhausting and frankly a bit intimidating to bear the weight of their gazes constantly. Plus, there was the not so subtle detail that those elves had killed hundreds of their own kin over a crazy oath surrounding a set of jewels. Not only that, but they still had some killing left to do. They had spilled enough blood to earn the dark red color of their House. 

Hazel shook the thoughts from her mind. They had sworn an oath to not harm her and they seemed set on honoring it. Plus, even if knowing of their actions made her feel a bit like she was harboring war criminals, she had an idea an what the government would do if they got their hands on a pair of elves and she figured that their crimes couldn't justify the torture that they would be forced to endure... not even to mention the implications on the history of Middle Earth if the Feanorians were never returned to their proper place and time. 

A slight rustling in the bushes drew her attention away. On instinct, Hazel raised her rife but slung it back across her shoulder immediately when she realized what made the sound. 

From out of the bushes emerged a beautiful and proud looking buck. He had a piece of bright green ribbon tied around his neck and he still hadn't lost his antler rack. Hazel reached a hand into her bag and brought out an apple, holding it to the buck and cooing softly. 

"Hey there Legolas," she smiled as the buck confidently approached and munched on the treat. "Long time no see. How've you been?"

The buck responded by gently nuzzling her shoulder and chewing a bit on her sleeve as a way to beg for more treats. She playfully batted his head away but eventually relented and fed him a carrot that she had also stowed in her bag. The buck was what Hazel referred to as a "friend" for he was far too wild to be considered a pet. Her idiotic cousin had been driving far too fast on a dark night a few years back and he hit a doe that had given birth only hours ago. Hazel took on the duty of fostering the calf and raised it till it was strong enough to go off on its own. Her Tolkien obsessed friend Riley had actually helped her and thus came the buck's name. It was quite obvious that Legolas remembered his pseudo-mom as he always came to greet her whenever she ventured out into the woods and he wore the green ribbon as an identifier.

Hazel's family all knew that if one of them ever shot Legolas then there were very high chances that Hazel would turn around and shoot them next... and none were willing to test her aim. In truth, a large part of the reason why Hazel hated and feared poachers so much was because she was worried that one of them might kill Legolas. The buck had a habit of growing the most gorgeous set of antlers every year and she knew that a lot of poachers would go through a lot to get a rack like that. 

Suddenly, Legolas' ears pricked, spinning around like satellite dishes he went completely still before suddenly taking off. Hazel was instantly on guard and wary, gripping her gun and proceeding with caution. Now, there was a high chance that whatever spooked the deer was merely a rabbit running through the underbrush, but there was always the chance that a mountain lion was near and Hazel was not about to become cat food. She still had a few lines of fencing to check on though and she was determined to see her task done. 

Because Hazel was frankly too lady to deal with her snowshoes, she ended up walking along a game trail that she knew a good number of rabbits, deer, and other creatures traveled along. She was making good time and just turned the corner when she saw something that made her immediately lift her gun. 

There, around the bend in the trail was a man sitting on the ground with a hood thrown over his head. He had his back to her, but it was clear that he heard her approach for he went very still. Hazel never wavered in her grip on her gun as she scanned her eyes across the scene. Upon closer inspection it was clear that the figure was stuck on the ground, a thin wire trailing from what she could only assume to be his ankle to a nearby tree. When Hazel inhaled she could smell the slightest tang of iron in the air and then noticed that there were several large drops of blood marring the perfect snow. 

"Well-" she cleared her throat to ensure that her voice came off with the proper amount of authority and anger. "A poacher caught in his own snare... I guess now I've _really_ seen everything."

The hooded figure seemed to stiffen, but didn't say anything. 

"Now, I've got a loaded rifle and I'm a dead shot so this is what's going to happen," the figure on the ground made no sign of acknowledgment, but Hazel proceeded anyway. "You're going to very slowly place your hands on your head and let me restrain you before getting you out of your own stupid mess. Then, if you cooperate and aren't stupid... I'll call up Fish and Wildlife and you'll get arrested for trespassing and poaching instead of getting shot by an angry landowner or left to die in the cold. How does that sound? 'Cause I think it's a fair trade."

The figure still refused to acknowledge Hazel so she assumed that she would have to prove that she meant business. Thus, she fired a warning shot into the tree right next to his head. This caused the hooded figure to flinch away and ever so slowly, place two hands on the back of the hood. 

Hazel then walked slowly around the figure, careful with her steps to retain her footing and keep her gun pointed. When she got around she was able to take in more of the figure. It was a tall, broad shouldered man wearing a lot of leather. One of his legs was twisted into an awkward angle and she could clearly see a rather large pool of blood splattered over his lower leg. Hazel almost felt bad for the man because it appeared that the wire had cut incredibly deeply into his ankle. But, she figured that it served a poacher right to get caught in his own cruel snare. 

"Now," Hazel could already feel the traces of adrenaline wearing off as the sound of rushing blood in her ears began to quiet and she had to force the quiver out of her voice. "You're going to very slowly take off that hood and explain to me how you managed to even get to my property after the snowstorm and set up your traps."

"I believe-" the voice that emerged from behind the hood was deeply rich and melodic. "That there has been a misunderstanding, my Lady."

Hazel froze at the title. She had seen her fair share of poachers, but never had she met one with any sort of manners... let alone such old fashioned ones. 

"I had no intention of trespassing... and I can assure you that these traps are not mine." The man began to very slowly pull the hood down. "Please, I-"

Hazel inhaled sharply when the hood was down. 

Before her was a man with crystal blue eyes and a thick mane of golden curls that spilled out of his now lowered hood. He had high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and a strong nose that all spelled out a sort of Grecian beauty. His eyes were bright and his brow, though obviously pained, was firm. Most importantly however, a few small braids held back his mane of hair and they revealed a pair of delicately pointed ears. 

He was an elf. 

She had another elf on her property. 

_What the hell is happening to my life?!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning that our poor elf's injuries are bad and maybe a teeny tiny bit graphic. I promise this pic won't get more gory than this because this was supposed to be my fluffy fic.
> 
> Apparently I love angst almost as much as Feanorians do.

Hazel was locked in a staring match with the elf in front of her. He was obviously in pain, but remained remarkably calm with his hands lightly resting on the back of his head. She noticed how his eyes briefly flickered across her form, taking in her jeans, down jacket, and gun in less than a second before his eyes were once more locked on her. His eyes were bright, yet they were neither warm nor cold... just cautious. 

That was what perhaps struck Hazel the most. She had gotten used to the blazing stare of the Feanorians who, even the seemingly serene Maglor, both had a glint of violence in their eyes. Something about them- the way they moved, the way their eyes were constantly flickering around the room, it always seemed as if they were not just ready to jump into battle... but wanting to. Maybe it was what happened to the souls of kinslayers, maybe it was their oath pulling at them constantly, or maybe it was just the fire of Feanor that ran through their veins. Either way, no amount of charm could dispel the vaguely violent air around them. 

But this elf... this elf was different. He was every inch the warrior that the two kinslayers were with broad shoulders and large, muscular hands still idly resting on the back of his head. His leather was now clearly seen to be a light form of armor and he had a rather large sword tucked into his belt with a dagger laying beside the wire snare. Though he was likely shorter, though not by much, than Maedhros, he was bulkier than Maglor and exuded the aura of someone who you wouldn't want to face in a fight- no... he didn't seem the type to simply "fight," he was someone you didn't want to face in battle. Yet there was a serenity about him... a sort of easy calm that oozed peace. Thinking on it later, Hazel realized that in his presence she felt something akin to the feeling of standing before a great sensei in her dojo... the elf before her had the serenity of a monk, but the deeply self fire of a warrior. 

And, he bore her rather long visual examination with easy patience, not even fidgeting in the slightest. 

"Who-" her voice cracked and she cursed herself in her head before clearing her throat and continuing. "Who are you?"

"My name is Glorfindel," when Hazel's jaw abruptly clicked shut he paused for a moment before continuing in that deep and melodic voice. "Tis true that I am an Eldar, but please, you needn't be frightened."

It seemed that he had taken her voice crack and flinch as a sign of fear, something not entirely implausible if he believed her to be a maiden of Middle Earth who had likely never met an elf. She was well aware that the elves of Middle Earth didn't overly fraternize with men and thus many were frightened by these ethereal creatures who were as deadly as they were beautiful. 

Glorfindel then offered her a charming smile, marred only slightly by a grimace caused by a slight shift in position which released a fresh gush of blood. He made a point of keeping his hands firmly in place on his head as he bowed slightly in way of greeting. 

"Where- where are you from and... how did you get here?" Hazel suddenly realized that he could be from almost any point in Middle Earth's history. She honestly didn't know what answer she would prefer as any possibility held the chance for further complications. 

"I hail from the House of Lord Elrond, the elven land of Imladris... or Rivendell as you may know it," he still had that placid smile on his face and Hazel decided that, from everything she knew of Glorfindel, she could probably trust him. "As for how I came to be here, my Lady... I must admit that the answer alludes me. I had merely been walking alone by the shores of the river near my home when I slipped and awoke in the snow. I am terribly sorry to be trespassing upon your lands and I truly did not mean to intrude." 

_If he's from the House of Elrond then he's on his second life... that could prove messy should he talk too much with the brothers._

Hazel had, at that point, fully relaxed her grip on her gun and allowed it to swing back in place on her back. Her eyes kept flickering between the obviously serious wound on the elf's ankle and his hands still set in place on his head. Part of Hazel was surprised by how easily he was complying, but then she noticed that his hair was slowly being stained red by the cuts on his hands and that his dagger handle was also discolored. She put the pieces together rather quickly that he had been trying for some time to free himself from the snare, but that the wire was too sharp and it was already too deep into his flesh for him to pry it out with a mere dagger. 

While yes, meeting another strange man who was strong enough to snap her like a twig and carried very very pointy objects with him, while in the middle of the wilds was enough to give Hazel pause... she suddenly thought of it from his perspective. One moment he was in his home, the next he was in a completely different climate. Then, whilst completely disoriented he got himself trapped into a snare that was digging extremely far into his ankle and he couldn't get it off with the tools that he had. Then, to top it off some strange child with a very dangerous weapon was yelling at him for being on her land while he was utterly trapped.

_He must be terrified._

The thought was enough to temporarily snap most of the caution from Hazel's mind as she crouched down to not be looming over him. Without thinking she reached her hands towards his ankle in an attempt to examine it, but before she even got close, her wrists were suddenly trapped in a very firm grip. For a brief second she froze before launching herself backwards in terror. It seemed that the action had been instinctual on the elf's part for as soon as he realized that he was gripping her wrists, a look of what Hazel could only assume to be fright passed across his face as he released her and immediately had his hands in the air in a placating gesture. 

Hazel did an awkward crab shuffle backwards through the snow and cursed herself for her stupidity. In all her years of freeing animals from poachers' snares, the first rule, as taught to her by her Grandmother, came to mind. 

_"Now listen here Hazel dear," her Grandmother was a no-nonsense, country raised woman who could gut a deer as well as she could sew a dress. "You've got a kind heart in your chest, but you can't let it fool that head on your shoulders. It's a good a just thing to care for those poor creatures that those damn-"_

_"Grandma?!" twelve year old Hazel was shocked. Her Grandma was as straight laced as they came and she had never heard the woman curse._

_"Oh honey you're old enough and there are certainly worse things to call those sorry excuses for men," she waved off Hazel's shock as she continued her knitting, pushing up her glasses as to spoke. "Now, anyway... there are three rules to this business of caring for wild creatures. What are they?"_

_"I must remember that they're wild... and that no matter how attached I get they still belong out there and can't become my pet," Hazel replied obediently. She had learned that lesson after becoming a bit overly attached to a fox that she cared for for a week. That lesson had been quickly drilled into her head after it recovered and then immediately ate one of Uncle's cedar chairs._

_"Very good. What's rule number two?"_

_"That-" Hazel swallowed a little and her voice dropped as she recalled the other rule that she had also learned the hard way. "That if a wild animal is too hurt to live in the wild... then it's a kinder thing to put it out of its misery."_

_"Very good sweetie," her Grandma's voice grew soft as she recalled how heartbroken little Hazel was when she tried far too hard to nurse an eagle back to health after a carless poacher shot it with a 20 gauge shell. The poor bird was blind in both eyes, had a missing foot, and a wing that wasn't ever going to be straight again. Eleven year old Hazel had tried for weeks to nurse it back to health, but eventually the bird went practically catatonic, loosing its will to eat anything that she tried to offer it. Hazel's father was forced to step in and explain that eagles are meant to fly, to see and hunt... that even though Hazel loved it, it wasn't meant to live that way. Hazel still had a tail feather that fell off the eagle as she stroked it one last time before her father took it out back and ended its like with one, painless shot to the head._

_That tail feather was still hanging on a chord in her bedroom of the cabin._

_"What about the first rule?" Her Grandma broke Hazel out of her sad trip down memory lane._

_"First rule, Grandma?" Try as she might, she couldn't recall another._

_"This one's first because it's the most important... because this one is about keeping you safe," the elderly woman put her knitting down and fixed Hazel with a firm, yet warm gaze over the top of her glasses. "There is nothing on this good earth more dangerous than a creature trapped, injured, and afraid. I've seen the sweetest Labrador act like rabid wolf when it's leg was caught in a bear trap and you Uncle Henry had to call a vet to tranquilize the poor thing before we could get close enough to let it out."_

_"That's what happened to Jack?!" Hazel's eyes widened in shock. The grizzled old retriever always walked with a limp, but he was just about the gentlest teddy bear that she knew._

_"Yes indeed, your Uncle still has a scar from where that boy bit far enough into his leg to see muscle. Nothing is harmless when its trapped and afraid. You aught to remember that."_

_"I will Grandma._ _"_

_"Promise?"_

_Hazel nodded her head and her Grandma nodded once in satisfaction before returning to her knitting._

With that memory in mind, Hazel examined the scene again. There was a bloody dagger, thankfully the handle and not the blade was stained red, right in grabbing distance of the trapped elf. On his belt was a rather wicked looking sword, and Hazel had no doubt that the elf could easily kill her with his bare hands if he wanted. 

But, at the same time his hands were now held palm outwards towards her and his expression was one of utter sincerity and apology. Neither moved, and neither spoke for some time. 

"My- my Lady," Hazel was surprised to hear Glorfindel stumble slightly over his words. "My sincerest apologies. I had not intention of frighting you. I seem to have gotten trapped in this snare and my ankle is most tender."

 _Tender? Well he certainly has a delicate way of putting things,_ Hazel's mind chirped in. 

"Hazel."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Hazel..."

"Of course, Lady Hazel," he flashed another of those charming smiles. "Again, I deeply apologize for trespassing and I am sincerely sorry for frighting you, but I must beg a favor for it seems that this snare has tugged rather deep and I am unable to free myself with cutting further into my skin. Might you or your... husband have a tool that I may borrow?"

"Uh... no husband," suddenly Hazel was struck with an intense bout of awkwardness. 

"Oh your fath-"

"I'm not here with my father either. I take care of myself," as the words slipped out, Hazel found her mind cursing herself for the umpteenth time that day as she realized that it was A) stupid to proclaim that she's alone and B) very unnecessary and childish to constantly be asserting that she could care for herself. In her defense though, she had spent well over a month fighting with her parents about being able to stay at the cabin alone and she now had the two most frighting and incompetent minders hovering about her. 

"Of course, I never meant to imply differently," he winced once again as he shifted a bit in place. "But if you could possibly aide me I would be most grateful. I truly mean no harm." As he noticed that Hazel was still a bit hesitant, he sighed gently. "Would you feel better if I were to toss aside my dagger?" 

Before Hazel could reply, he picked up his dagger and tossed it gently to the side, well out of his reach. He then, very slowly, did the same with his sword and Hazel was struck in amazement about how easily he trusted. For all he knew, she was some random maiden in Middle Earth who was meeting an elf for the first time. If she decided to kill him or suddenly flee, he was leaving himself without any weapon. Glorfindel was putting a lot of faith into her and she figured that if he was trusting her... she ought to reciprocate. 

Thus, Hazel slowly approached and pulled forth a pair of wire cutters from her backpack. This time she paused before reaching for Glorfindel's ankle, but he elf merely smiled at her, inviting her to move closer. She did so carefully and clipped away at the tail of wire connecting the snare to the nearby tree. 

"Sorry, but this is gonna hurt," she warned. 

Glorfindel merely grabbed a tree branch and bit down, nodding for her to proceed. 

Taking a deep breath herself, Hazel dug the tip of the wire cutters into his skin and yanked the snare open, slipping the knot free and pulling the wire from where it was embedded. Another gush of blood poured forth and Hazel immediately began wrapping it with a roll of gauze from her small first aide kit. 

"We'll have to get this cleaned up back at the cabin, but for now we've got to stop the bleeding," she said as she worked. 

Meanwhile Glorfindel removed the branch from his mouth and sincerely thanked her for her help. Hazel merely brushed it off and turned to wipe her hands in the snow. In truth, she was turning around so that he wouldn't see the way she trembled after watching the wire emerge from so deep into his flesh, but he didn't need to know that. 

By the time she turned back around, Glorfindel had tied off the gauze and rolled what remained of his leggings down. Thus, Hazel turned her attention to the wire trap and began attempting to dismantle it. She had to put on her thick leather gloved as she attacked it with a pair of wire cutters, even then a few choice curses slipped out. Glorfindel watched in silence for some time before his curiosity seemed to get the better of him. 

"I am under the impression that this trap was not yours?" He asked. 

"It absolute wasn't," she finally managed to get rid of it completely as she packed the wire into her bag to dispose of late. "Must've been set by some idiotic poacher."

"Ah, I see..." his voice trailed off a bit as Hazel brushed herself off and stood, slinging her pack over her back. 

"Do you think you can walk?" Hazel was honestly a bit curious. If he were a human then he probably would've been screaming in pain from how deep that wire went, but he was an elf and Hazel had watched Maglor's mangled shoulder heal almost over night. 

Glorfindel tried to stand, bearing his weight entirely on his uninjured leg as he leaned against the tree for support, but the moment he tried to shift his weight to his left ankle he collapsed despite Hazel's pathetic attempt to keep him upright. He looked up at her with a bit of concern in his eyes as his tone became somber. 

"It appears that my injury is more grave than I imagined. I thank you kindly for your-"

Hazel cut him off by offering him his sword and dagger. He stared at the handles of his blades for several moments, a look of open and honest confusion on his face.

"Come on," she continued to brush snow of her now rather damp jeans as he slowly took his blades. "You may be immune to the cold but I'm not. I've got to get you back to my cabin so we can properly clean that thing. You'll have to lean on me to get there and considering the height difference... it's gonna be awkward but we'll have to make due." 

"You are offering to shelter me in your home?"

"Sure," Hazel shrugged as she held out her hand to help him up. "It's not like there's anywhere else you can go. There's no one around for miles."

Before Glorfindel took her hand, he placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head to her. 

"I am eternally in your debt, Lady Hazel. I know not how I came about this place and I apologize deeply for frightening you earlier, but your kindness is truly immense."

"Buddy, it would take a pretty sorry excuse of a human to see someone caught in a poacher's snare and leave them to die in the snow," she explained as she pulled him up. 

Glorfindel was indeed huge and it probably would've suited him better to wrap his arm around Hazel's head than her shoulders, but he ended up wrapping one massive arm across the back of Hazel's neck. When he leaned on her for support, Hazel was pleasantly surprised to find that the elf was lighter than his bulk suggested and she was instantly warmed by his massive half hug. She was also studiously trying to ignore the fact that he smelled like floral musk and something like sunshine if such a scent were to exist. They began their very slow and awkward walk back to her cabin and despite the amount of pain that Glorfindel must have been in, he was surprisingly cheerful and chatty. 

"Might I ask," he said as he suddenly jumped away from his rather enthusiastic praise for a songbird that had kept him company for a while after stepping in the snare. "Where are we? Your clothing and accent are most unique for I don't believe you to be a maiden of either Gondor or Rohan."

"Ya... ummmm..." Hazel knew that this would come up eventually so she decided that honesty was the best policy. Plus, she was much more confident in Glorfindel not being murderous so she decided to just go for it. "So here's the thing..."

She proceed to explain the concept of alternate universes and her modern world though it was slightly easier than when she did with the Feanorians because A) Glorfindel seemed mostly curious and surprised, if a little grave, at her news instead of suspicious and murderous and B) she already had done this once so you know... practice. 

When she got to the end of her speech she admitted to knowing Glorfindel's past and revealed enough of his story for him to trust her enough to explain that the Fellowship had just left Imladris. He also seemed rather understanding about her hesitancies to reveal anything of what was to come for him which she was again grateful for. However, what did strike her was how calmly he took everything in and how easily he seemed to trust her. It seemed that her continued curious looks at him allowed him to guess what she was thinking. 

"Fear not, I find it easy trusting you as you are sincere," he smiled and she did her best to tame her fluttering heart. "I have fought in many wars and faced many foes... I know the aura of evil when I see it and it is not in you. You are incredibly brave to aid me such."

Hazel murmured a reply as she felt her cheeks flush. They continued to walk towards her cabin whilst he asked more and more questions about her world. She was enjoying their walk so much that she might have forgotten to mention that part of the reason why she was so calm was due to the fact that he was actually the third elf that she's met. 

Eventually she learned that this was a mistake as they broke through the tree line and approached her cabin. There was a flash of something in the window before she saw her front door suddenly burst open, two very angry and armed elves leaping forth, swords aloft and eyes shining with fury.

"Unhand her!" Maedhros demanded, his tone bore all the passion that one might imagine from Feanor's line.

For a moment Hazel was shocked and confused, but she quickly realized that perhaps it did look a little strange to see Glorfindel's massive form dwarfing hers, his arm slung around her shoulders could easily be interpreted as him grasping her as if she was some hostage instead of her supporting his weight due to his injury. 

"Maedhros-" Hazel was about to tell him to calm down when from the corner of her eye she saw Glorfindel's entire expression change. 

The warmth of his eyes was gone and replaced with cold fury and in an instant all his good cheer from their earlier walk had disappeared. In its place was the expression of the warrior who slayed a Balrog. Hazel felt her heart drop to her stomach. 

"Feanorian!" He roared, instantly shoving Hazel behind him. "My Lady stay back," he ordered, his voice no longer filled with mirth. "These are kinslayers, they have no honor."

She then watched as Glorfindel rose to his full height, drawing forth his sword and leveling it at the two brothers. There was danger in his eyes and Hazel was once again reminded that as kind and gentle as this elf was to her... he was one of, if not _the_ most dangerous elven warrior in Middle Earth at the time of the Fellowship. 

_Oh shit..._ Hazel suddenly remembered that Glorfindel had crossed the Helcaraxe, he had watched King Turgon's wife die and hundreds of his own house perish due to the actions of the Feanorians. Glorfindel had lived in the time of the Kinslayings... 

_Well... fuck..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! 
> 
> There were so many lovely comments on the last chapter and I got so excited that I finished this chapter when I was supposed to be working on my other fics!
> 
> Thank you so much for all your amazing support and I can't even describe how happy I am that so many people are having as much fun reading this fic as I'm having writing it. Life's been a bit insane lately and I love logging in to see so many people enjoying the story!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahooo! Another chapter already!!!

"Step back," Glorfindel ordered the brothers whilst Hazel was furiously tapping him on his shoulder. "You foul kinslayers will move from our path else I shall gladly move thee."

"And who are you?" Maglor's usually musical voice was grim and Hazel once again remembered that she had two of Middle Earth's most infamous murderers as her houseguests. 

"Who are you to dare threaten the Sons of Feanor?" Maedhros and Maglor began to both slowly approach and Hazel had a mini panic attack where she thought that Glorfindel was about to reveal that he served Elrond. However, the detail that she forgot in that terrifying moment was that Glorfindel was not merely a warrior, but was hailed for his wisdom. While he was indeed furious enough at the Feanorians to not question how they were alive, he wasn't foolish enough to give them any hints on their future. 

"Guys, I think we should all just calm-"

"I am Laurefindil, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, Servant to King Turgon of Gondolin," he declared and standing there in the snow with golden, blood flecked hair and sword aloft, he did indeed look like an elven lord of old. 

"Glorfindel, really I know that there's history but-"

"Hah, one of Turgon's petty lords, and you dare to challenge us?" Maedhros took another step closer and Glorfindel placed his second hand on his sword. 

"Maedhros I'm fine and maybe you shouldn't challenge him. He's had a few more years-"

"I am not afraid of you, Kinslayer." Glorfindel ignored Hazel's attempts to diffuse the situation.

"Unhand the Edain," Maglor ordered.

"I'm fine! Completely unharmed!" Hazel tried to shout, but the elves all seemed to be studiously ignoring her. 

"I would not trust you with the life of your own kin, let alone a child."

"Alright, how many times do I have to tell you guys, I'm not a child!" Now Hazel was just exasperated.

Then, before Hazel could even blink Maglor shot forward like a bolt of dark lighting and Hazel was thrust further back Glorfindel's firm hand. She landed on her behind in the snow and watched in a mixture of awe, fear, and annoyance as Glorfindel met Maglor's blade, the two swords weaving against each other in a terrifying crescendo of clangs. 

Then, Maedhros lept into the fight and now Glorfindel was battling two oppoennts, his sword was practically a blur of silver as all three elves were locked in deadly combat. While Maglor and Maedhros circled Glorfindel like hungry wolves, the latter kept firmly in place and Hazel realized that he still couldn't put pressure on his ankle. The brothers seemed to eventually catch on and began attempting low swipes meant to force him to step or jump, yet each time their blades were met with Glorfindel's broadsword. 

Alarm bells were ringing through Hazel's mind as she watched the fight. It was clear that Maedhros was both surprised and angered that Glorfindel was lasting as long as he did and honestly, Hazel couldn't tell if the battle was swaying one way or the other. But, what she did know was that if any of then died and thus never made it back to their universe, then Middle Earth would be eternally screwed. All of them were important, all of them had vital tasks to complete, and none of them were meant to die on the front lawn of her cabin. 

"Guys!" She tried to yell, but the sounds of swords crashing drowned out her voice. "Guys please just calm down!"

Yet still they fought, shouting insults and verbal attacks between blows with some rather nasty sounding phrases in Quenya that Hazel wasn't really sure that she wanted to translate. In truth, Hazel was a bit surprised that Glorfindel reacted so violently to them as she knew that he loved and respected Elrond who was raised by the brothers. But, as she listened closer to the shouting she realized what the bulk of their disagreement was about... her. 

They both thought that the other was trying to hurt her and this time Hazel didn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. They were already annoying enough with the Feanorians thinking that she was in such danger that she should be wary of leaving her cabin but now she had three elvish warriors fighting in some absurd effort to protect her. Really, it seemed that it was her job to protect all of them. 

Hazel stood and dusted the snow from her pants and jacket. It was clear that while Glorfindel was holding his own against the pair fairly well, he was still injured and growing tired. If any of the elves were killed then Middle Earth was thoroughly screwed so Hazel had to stop them quickly. If they really were fighting in some absurd pissing contest over who they thought was trying to kill her... then there was only one way to stop them that came to mind for Hazel and she immediately regretting thinking of it. 

Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

_I really hope these elves are as nimble as Tolkien said..._

Without warning she jumped forward, throwing herself directly between all three blades. The swords immediately withdrew and she found three dumbfounded elves gasping at her as if she had just told them that she was turning off the stars. 

"I said," her voice was surprisingly even for having just lept in front of three swords. "Calm down."

"My Lady, they are dang-"

"He was a threat-"

"Shut up!" She yelled. Now Hazel generally considered herself a decently patient individual, but the past few days were stressful and these elves were all on very very thin ice. "I was never in danger, no-one here has hurt me or is trying to... so unless anyone here wants a fourth Kinslaying you will all Put. Your. Weapons. Down."

Maglor was the first to follow her commands, dropping his sword with a mildly sheepish expression on his face. He was followed quickly by Glorfindel who gave one last suspicious glare to Maedhros before he too dropped his blade. Maedhros... Maedhros took several moments where his eyes flickered back and forth between his brother, Hazel, and Glorfindel, but eventually he too dropped his blade with a look of pure, self righteous annoyance on his face. 

"Glorfindel, I know you don't like these two... but they dropped into this world a few days ago and they've been staying with me because just like you... they're stuck. They haven't tried to hurt me and you cannot kill them because they're from your past... right after the third... Kinslaying. If you kill them now, all of your history will be screwed up and you know who will never become who they are if these two die now..." Hazel explained as calmly as she could. Maglor acted as a foster father to the twins... if he never did that then Elrond would never become the Lord of Imladris and who knows what would happen to the future.

Thankfully, Glorfindel seemed to understand... even if he wasn't too happy with it. 

"For the sake of my Lord, I will not kill them so long as they do not cause mischief or harm," he stated solemnly, nodding his head towards Hazel who felt very very small standing between three elvish lords. 

"Laurefindil of Gondolin... aren't you the one who died slaying a Balrog?" Maedhros asked, his tone still wary. 

"Yes that's him..." Hazel's eyes flickered between the two as they seemed the most likely to murder each other at the moment. "He's from far into your future because he was brought back to life by the Valar."

"For what purpose?" Maglor asked, though he seemed less confrontational and more curious. 

"That," Hazel interrupted before Glorfindel could speak, "you cannot know because it's the future. A lot of stuff can be screwed up right now so we're going need to make a rule NO talking about the future... NONE at ALL."

"You still have yet to tell us why he is here," Maedhros kept glancing at his sword and Hazel was sorely tempted to kick the thing out of grabbing distance... not that it would stop the elves from killing each other some other way. 

"Well... Glorfindel here was wounded and someone ended up on my property just like you guys. Whatever brought the two of you here probably brought him here as well. Now, I have to treat his ankle and whatever other injures you guys acquired in your stupid fight you'll have to figure out for yourselves. So, can we please go inside because I know you guys don't care about the cold but I'm a Edain and I get cold very very easily."

"Of course," Maglor suddenly seemed concerned and Hazel supposed that it had to do with her finger tips going a little white as they stood out there. 

The elves all slowly collected their swords and wordlessly, Maglor offered to support Glorfindel's weight. The blond elf hesitated for a moment, but upon realizing that he couldn't get to the house without help and not wanting to lean on Hazel anymore, he accepted. The slow shuffle to that cabin was awkward to say the least... but it seems that Glorfindel and Maglor had a slight truce as Maglor seemed to feel guilting for assuming that Hazel was in danger and Glorfindel knew that Maglor at least did a good job raising Elrond. 

When they got inside Maglor deposited Glorfindel on the couch and Hazel went to fetch her large first aide kit. She chucked a few swaths of gauze and some antiseptic rinse at the brothers, ordering them to get cleaned up in the hallway bathroom. She then fetched a bucket to put under Glorfindel's ankle while she began to rinse it clean. The wire had gotten incredibly deep and bit far into his flesh. It was a good thing that Hazel had never been easily unsettled by the sight of blood.

As she worked on his injury, Hazel spent the time explaining modern appliances and assuring Glorfindel that nothing in her home was magic. When she finally finished bandaging his ankle, the Feanorians emerged from the bathroom with Maglor still looking a bit guilty and Maedhros as annoyed and self certain as always. If Hazel were the betting sort, she would've bet quite a high price that they had spent the past 45 minutes arguing about what to do with the newly introduced elf. 

The two brothers sat down on the couch across from where Hazel and Glorfindel sat. Sensing the tension in the room, Hazel did what she always did in such situations... she made tea. And so, ten minutes later they were all back in the same spots, now sipping on mugs of hot tea and nibbling on a box of lemon cookies that she found in the pantry. 

Hazel wasn't sure if she had ever heard a louder silence. 

"So..." she began. "First Age," she pointed to the Feanorians, "Third Age," she pointed to Glorfindel, "and I've ready every single piece of Tolkien literature there is," she pointed to herself. "Now, because we don't want to destroy all of time in Middle Earth... we can't talk about anything beyond the First age where Maedhros and Maglor are currently at."

She received a round of nods from the room.

Hazel took another nervous sip of her tea. Oh how she wished she could just drop Glorfindel off with the Feanorians and tell them to explain the situation to him... but the chances of them murdering each other were too high to leave them unsupervised. 

"So... questions?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ya... this story has been a ton of fun and I really love all the engagement with all you lovely readers. It makes writing so much more fun and enjoyable. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked Hazel's mess with the crazy elves. The next chapter is probably going to be a bit more serious and also bring in a touch of angst so be prepared.


	10. Chapter 10

Hazel finished up explaining the presidential elections of all things before she decided that if the newest elf to her little collection had any more questions, he could ask them as she cooked dinner. Once again, she was faced with the problem of making food for far more than she predicted when she originally stocked the cabin for winter. She sighed and decided that some sort of stir fry with rice would have to do. She wasn't about to hear taste preferences from elves of different ages. 

Thus, she found herself in her kitchen once again answer questions as she bustled about. Maglor almost got in the way hovering about in an attempt to be helpful as usual, but Glorfindel seemed to bristle any time he approached her from behind. Frankly, Hazel was too tired to deal with that so she pretended not to notice and eventually showed some mercy by handing Maglor a stack of carrots and a knife, asking him to chop them. She then distracted Glorfindel from the fact that she handed the Feanorian a knife by ordering him to chop up the string beans and spinach. Maedhros... well Maedhros watched with his usual frown until she shooed him off to tend to the fire and keep the cabin from freezing. 

They soon finished cooking with only a few kitchen accidents and began to eat. The silence at the table was... awkward to say the least and Hazel was just desperate for something to talk about.

"So..." she began slowly, trying to ignore the fact that all three elves immediately stopped eating to stare at her. "You guys really don't feel how cold its been lately?"

"We can feel the crispness of the air," Maglor began, eyes flickering between Glorifndel and Hazel. "But it does not bother us as it does the Edain."

"Indeed... it takes an _extreme_ cold to chill the blood of the Eldar... and we are not immune to such," Glorfindel's tone was enough to cause Maglor to avert his eyes and Maedhros to bristle slightly. Hazel knew that Maedhros alone refused to burn the ships... but she really didn't think that such would make Glorfindel think any better of the pair. Thankfully, Glorifndel continued to speak. "But personally I prefer the spring and summer, the blooms in Im- in my home are beautiful." 

Hazel nodded along, glad that Glorfindel caught himself before he spoke too much. 

"These lands are beautiful in the spring as well. When winter melts away the fields are filled with wildflowers and the many deer have their fawns here." 

They felt into a slightly more comfortable silence after that before Glorfindel spoke up. 

"That strange weapon that you bore... what was it?" He asked, gesturing to the rifle which was still propped up near the door. She had abandoned it as she entered in favor of treating Glorfindel's wounds and she made a mental note to put it back in the safe before bed. 

"It's called a gun," she replied. 

"Tis a most powerful weapon," Maglor commented, his eyes scanning the weapon with a look somewhere between curiosity and caution. 

"How does it work?" Maedhros, for the first times since they sat at the table, spoke. 

"Oh," Hazel was a bit caught off guard by the question. "Well, you see the metal tube is called the barrel and it shoots a small chunk of metal called the bullet by-" 

Hazel clamped her hand over her own mouth in shock at what she almost casually explained. _Oh no... no way._ She quickly stood up and grabbed the gun, walking over to the safe and turning her back to that they couldn't see her dial in the code. She wretched the doors open and shoved the gun in before slamming the safe shut. 

"No." Her voice was firm as she turned back to them. "No... just, forget about it. Pretend that you've never seen it before and don't even think about it."

"I'm merely curious," Maedhros threw a surprisingly disarming smile, one that appeared far more harmless in appearance than she ever assumed the warrior was capable of. Sometimes, Hazel almost forgot that Maedhros was also known as a shrewd politician and negotiator. He was indeed the one who reunited the Noldor after everything that they had been through. 

"Not about this... just no," she was very firm with her words. "The invention of this weapon absolutely revolutionized the world and changed history for forever. I can't even imagine what it would do to Middle Earth."

"But with power such as that we could finally destroy Morgoth-"

"Glorfindel's from the Third Age," Hazel cut Maedhros' silver tongue off. "There's no way the Third Age would be possible if Morgoth wasn't defeated eventually... you don't need guns to do it."

"But-"

"No, and that's final. I'm fine sharing the history of the US political system or my grandma's secret banana bread recipe with you guys... but there are limits to what I can share from this world. I'm not about to let the entirety of Middle Earth be destroyed to satisfy your curiosity."

After that outburst, dinner once again fell to awkward silence. Once they finished, the four all retired to the living room and sat on the plush couches, Maedhros seeming to have taken up the mantle of tending the fire. Luckily though, they were saved from further awkwardness by Maglor pulling out his harp after dinner. It seemed that Glorfindel was a bit more tolerant of Maglor to begin with... but even more so once he heard Maglor's voice as he played. The elf went through several songs in Quenya that seemed on the distinctly less controversial side than the Noldolante and Hazel watched in fascination and the tension seemed to melt off of both Glorfindel and Maedhros. 

Tolkien had always emphasized how much the elves loved music, but Hazel hadn't realized quite how much until she saw the way that it seemed to relax all three of her houseguests. By Maglor's fourth song, if anyone were to walk into the room they likely would've assumed that all three elves were old friends by the ease in which they sat together. The rapid 180 in hostility level nearly blew Hazel's mind away. 

At one point, Maglor paused and frowned a bit as he realized that while Hazel was certainly enjoying listening to his singing, she couldn't understand anything of what he was singing. Hazel tried to assure him that it was alright, but he insisted that is wasn't. So, after a bit of humming to himself and seemingly aimlessly plucking his strings, he smiled broadly and launched into a song with the words this time, much to Hazel's surprise, in English. 

" _Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!_  
 _O Queen beyond the Western Seas!_  
 _O light to us that wander here_  
 _Amid the world of woven trees!_  
  
 _Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!_  
 _Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!_  
 _Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee_  
 _In a far land beyond the sea._ "

After the first verse, Maedhros slowly joined in, his deeper voice harmonizing with his brother's. By the second verse, Hazel suddenly recognized it as the Hymn to Elbereth that Gildor Inglorion sang to Frodo and the Hobbits after they left the Shire. It made sense really, Gildor was supposedly from the house of Finrod who was Maglor's cousin. Perhaps this was a song invented by Maglor himself, passed to his cousin, passed down the line of his cousin's house, and eventually imparted onto the four intrepid Hobbits.   
  
_"O Stars that in the Sunless Year_  
 _With shining hand by her were sown,_  
 _In windy fields now bright and clear_  
 _We see you silver blossom blown!"_

By the third voice, Glorfindel too joined the song and Hazel smiled in pure awe as the elvish voices rose in a beautiful harmony together. Part of Hazel didn't want to ruin the beautiful moment, but her heart yearned to join the song and thus, she soon found herself jumping into the final verse.   
  
_"O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!_  
 _We still remember, we who dwell_  
 _In this far land beneath the trees,_  
 _Thy starlight on the Western Seas."_

"You know a song that I have yet to pen?" Maglor asked at the conclusion, his brow tilted with confusion.

"Umm... let's just say that you must write it down at some point... because I've read it before." Hazel smiled a bit ruefully as she realized that she probably just ruined a perfectly beautiful moment. The slightly teary look in Glorfndel's eyes told her that he was probably recalling the fact that there were very few left alive on Middle Earth in the Third Age who could truly say that they remembered the starling on the Wester Seas... so few Valinor elves were still alive. 

"You seem to know much of our culture?" Maedhros spoke, and for once, it didn't quite sound like an accusation. 

"I... well-"

"I must admit," Glorfindel smiled gently. "I am curious about yours. Would you sing us a song of your race?"

"Oh... ummm as you probably just noticed, I'm not much of a singer-"

"Nonsense," Glorfindel interjected, a rather _too_ cheerful smile on his face. "You have a lovely voice and I truly am curious about your strange mannish culture. Please?"

Maglor then stood and walked over to the piano which had been sitting in the corner, untouched till now. He ran his fingers lightly over the key and pressed a few, smiling in delight at the sound. 

"This strange instrument... do you play it?" He asked. Hazel nodded her head. "Oh, would please play us something? I've never seen anything like it and I would love to hear something! No wonder you were such a natural at the harp."

His smile and words were so beaming that Hazel had to duck her head when she felt a blush creeping up. It turns out that once once removes pointed objects from the vicinity of elves and adds a bit of music, they become incredibly cheerful and generous in their compliments. Nonetheless, Hazel eventually allowed the three elves to cajole her to take at seat at the piano bench which was far to old to properly adjust. 

She sat down and rested her fingers on the keys, pausing to think. _What is a song about humanity?_ She asked herself. Elvish songs were so closely tied with their culture, they told of their history, of great heroes and gods. Try as she might, she couldn't think of any good songs that were equivalent to such. Sure, she knew a few old Irish ballads but none of them really told the story of the human are quite like elvish songs seemed to. Then, an idea hit her. One of her favorite songs and actually. 

She placed her fingers on the keys, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to sing. 

_"If I die young bury me in satin_   
_Lay me down on a bed of roses_   
_Sink me in the river at dawn_   
_Send me away with the words of a love song."_

She had her eyes closed, but she couldn't miss the slight gasp that she heard. She wasn't sure from who, but she continued. 

" _Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother_  
 _She'll know I'm safe with you when_  
 _She stands under my colours, oh and_  
 _Life ain't always what you think it oughta be, no_  
 _Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby_

_The sharp knife of a short life,_   
_Well, I've had just enough time._

_If I die young bury me in satin._   
_Lay me down on a bed of roses_   
_Sink me in the river at dawn_   
_Send me away with the words of a love song"_

Hazel became lost in the music, in the beauty of the story of early death, of painful goodbyes and the acceptance that life is not indeed fair. She knew of nothing else more cognizant to the human race.

_"And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom_   
_I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger_   
_I've never known the lovin' of a man_   
_But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand_   
_There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever_   
_Who would have thought forever could be severed by_

_The sharp knife of a short life,_   
_Well I've had just enough time."_

Her voice rose up with each chorus, but as she progressed through the song, her voice lowered as the verse that always hit her the hardest came, the verse that made her love the song and cry each time she heard it play. 

_"A penny for my thoughts, oh no I'll sell them for a dollar_   
_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner_   
_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'_   
_Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'."_

With her eyes still closed, she launched into the last verse. Her fingers slowing on those final notes allowing her voice to end the song. 

_"The ballad of a dove_   
_Go with peace and love_   
_Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket_   
_Save 'em for a time when your really gonna need 'em oh_

_The sharp knife of a short life,_   
_Well I've had just enough time_   
_So put on your best boys, and I'll wear my pearls."_

When she finished, she opened her eyes for the first time since she started to sing and turned to the trio of elves still sitting on the couch. Now Hazel was the realistic sort of person, so she knew that her voice was considered decent, but nowhere near the beauty and perfection of an elvish singer, certainly not even close to Maglor... but nonetheless, the elves seemed stunned. 

They had hung on every word that fell from her lips, completely entranced by the song that was somehow so sweet despite being about something so sad. For elves had no song like it... 

Sure, there were those songs that were bittersweet, tales of lovers such as Beren and Luthien, one giving up an immortal life to fall in love with a human and share his fate. But, that song still allowed the lovers a life together, it was a choice made and cherished for the choice showed their love. This song... there was nothing happy to be heard. A young life lost, a life that had perhaps had a hint of potential love, but never even a taste of it. A mother burying her daughter, and her voice never being heard. But somehow... somehow it wasn't a song of grieving... it was something else. Acceptance? Acceptance of the way mortals yield to death? 

"It's a very human song, isn't it?" Hazel offered up with a small smile when it seemed that none of the elves were forthcoming with speech. 

"I don't think she had enough time," Maedhros seemed to voice the collective thoughts of the elves. 

"Perhaps not enough time for everything... but enough time to have known joy," she replied. 

"Why did she die? Was it plague, war?" Glorfindel asked. He was surly thinking of Gondolin, so many young must have died the day it fell. 

Hazel shrugged.

"The song isn't about anyone in particular... not many of our songs are. It's just... a song. It tells the story of no one and in doing so it tells the story of everyone." Hazel carefully replaced the piano cover and moved to sit on the couch once again. 

"It's a normal thing, isn't is..." Maglor fixed those eerily bright eyes on Hazel as he spoke. "For children of your kin to die young for unknown reasons?"

"Yes and no," Hazel sighed heavily. "In my world and my time... medicine has improved a lot so in some places... places that are more advanced and wealthy there are fewer deaths. In others, it is much the same as it is in your world where sickness and malnutrition can easily take the life of the young."

"Why?" Maglor asked. 

"Children are delicate things... human- Edain children more so... but I'm sure even Elvish children are delicate, most especially their minds," she tried her best not to stare too intently at Maglor as she said this, but she couldn't quite ignore the way his eyes bored into her soul. She knew as well as he who they were now talking about. 

"'Tis true," Glorfindel chimed in. "My house in Gondolin was ever growing, and the mind of an elfling is a delicate thing. They can easily fall to grief."

For a while they sat there, Maglor and Glorfindel exchanging glances whilst Maedhros' eyes kept wandering dangerously close to the gun safe. Although Hazel felt a slight amount of concern in the way Maedhros was eyeing the safe, that was one thing that luckily Hazel knew would be secure. The safe was massive, far heavier than one would imagine possible, and had a truly secure lock. Not even Maedhros the Tall would be capable of prying that door off. 

The quiet peace that they were enjoying was interrupted by a rather loud yawn and stretch from Hazel. She cracked her neck a few times and rolled her shoulders as a wave of exhaustion flooded her system. It had been another long day and the walk back to the cabin was Glorfindel's massive bulk leaning on her, while enjoyable, was rather tiring and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in the tub and then to collapse into bed. Plus, it was getting late. 

"Alright boys- elves... whatever," she was a bit extra perky at the idea of a long soak in the tub. "I'm heading to bed. Glorfindel... you can take one of the downstairs bedrooms. Just pick any that you want." She turned to the Feanorians, her eyes flickering between the pair. "Maglor, you're explaining how the bathroom works to Glorfindel and be nice! And Maedhros," she turned to poke a finger in the giant elf's direction. "Please no fighting." 

"Thank you, Lady Hazel," Glorfindel bowed deeply. "Your generosity is truly immense."

She also received an affirmative from Maglor who she mostly trusted to play nice and a quiet grumble in Quenya from Maedhros which Glorfindel replied to rather snappishly. The pair went at it for a few more moments before Magor started to follow her in her path up the stairs, presumably to leave his older brother to continue his argument. He was stopped however by Glorfindel and Maedhros who both seemed to object to his course. In her tired, pre-sleep brain, Hazel decided that she really didn't care enough to tell them to cut it out or to wonder what was said. She merely rolled her eyes and continued her walk, tossing one last comment over her shoulder. 

"If anyone kills anyone then I'm not helping you hide the body so figure it out."

With that, she slammed the door to her room and sent out a silent prayer to whatever god happened to have an eye on her little ruined vacation that she would wake up to the cabin in one piece. 

She did her best to ignore the still bickering voices that she could hear downstairs, arguing in hushed tones of their musical language. 

_I should've confiscated their swords,_ she thought to herself as she stepped into the bathroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yup... I wrote one of those fics with song lyrics ;p 
> 
> Eh, I couldn't help myself. I was listening to my music when the song came up and got the idea for this chapter stuck in my head. I just love this song ("If I Die Young" by The Band Perry) and I feel like it would be so impactful to the elves because they're creatures of eternity. The idea of dying young is such a strange and foreign thing to them, but to humans (especially those in Middle Earth) it would be such a common and no less tragic occurrence. I feel like for the elves, it would really drive home that idea that this fierce and independent young woman who took them in has such a relatively short and delicate lifespan compared to theirs.


	11. Chapter 11

Hazel woke slowly as sunlight crept in past her curtains. She sat up in bed and stretched broadly, realizing with no small amount of delight that the cabin was surpassingly toasty warm. She quickly came to the conclusion that Maedhros must have taken his duty of tending to the fire rather seriously and kept it going all night. Considering that elves didn't need as much sleep as humans and the amount of stress they had put her through over the past few days, Hazel decided that it was the least he could do. 

She stalled for a little while in bed, brushing her hair and stretching out a bit, but eventually she had to get up. She carefully slid out from her covers and tossed on clothes for the day before walking to her door in socks. Hazel opened the door, stubbed her toe, yelped in surprise, and then jumped back to land on her bottom once again. 

There, now sitting up straight but previously leaning against _her bedroom_ door, was Glorfindel. He shook his head lightly and gave her a beaming grin that was far too cheerful for it being first thing in the morning. 

"I wish you good morning, my Lady Hazel. How faired your rest?" He spoke as if it were the most normal thing in the world for him to be sitting _at her bedroom door!!!!_ presumably all night long. Several emotions flew through Hazel's mind, most were fleeting and far too rapid for her catch, but eventually she settled on something between confusion and rage. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" She screamed. 

"My Lady?" He seemed genuinely confused and in any other situation, his expression might be considered endearing. "What is the matter? Has something upset you?"

"Yes!!!" Okay, she was definitely screaming, but in her defense she just woke up to find that someone had slept against her door all night long. "What the matter is, is that you were. sleeping. against. my. door. Who does that?"

"I merely wished to be certain that you were safe," he still had that placid smile on his face as if nothing in the world could possibly be wrong with his actions. 

"What?!"

"Your bedroom is directly across the hall from that of the Feanorians. I couldn't in good conscious sleep downstairs whilst they resided across the hall from you. If they were to attack in the middle of the night, you would be vulnerable and I would be unable to reach them in time to stop them. Thus, I selected to sleep here."

Hazel blinked once, 

twice, 

thrice,

and it still didn't make any of this go away. 

She slapped a palm across her eyes and when she removed her hand, the door across from her's was open and a pair of elves, one concerned and the other smug, were standing there watching the show. Hazel paused and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. 

"Glorfindel," she put on the most sickly sweet and patient voice possible, the type one would use on a child they were trying very hard not to strangle, as she spoke. "They've been here for several nights already and they haven't tried to murder me in my sleep." 

"One can never be too cautious."

Hazel took another deep breath and remembered the words of her mother _"pick your battles child,"_ and thus, she pushed past him and walked downstairs. It was far too early to deal with the elves and she had to make breakfast anyway. 

Thus, she pushed past the annoying elf and headed downstairs to the kitchen where she began her morning by first preparing a steaming mug of caffeine. Only once she was halfway through did a thought hit her. 

"Glorfindel?" She turned to look at the elf who was sitting opposite of the Feanorians at her kitchen table. 

"Yes?"

"How's your ankle?" In her surprise at finding Glorfindel at her door that morning, she completely missed the fact that he seemed to be walking normally when just the day before the wire had nearly reached his bone. 

"It is well, thank you for asking," at the curious look that Hazel shot him, he continued. "The Valar were generous when they sent me back to Middle Earth and I heal faster than most Edain."

Hazel was pretty sure she then head Maglor mutter something about "favorites" under his breath, but she settled with one sharp glare at the entire table before focusing on her Yorkshire pudding. She finished pouring the batter and popped it into the oven before settling down at the table of elves. Even with the time she had spent with them, whenever things slowed down she was again struck with that strange, surreal feeling of sitting beside elves of all creatures. 

"I am terribly sorry to be taking such advantage of your hospitality my Lady-"

"Please, just call me Hazel," she corrected with a hint of exhaustion in her tone. As endearing as it was at first, if she had to deal with these medieval manners much longer she was going to flip. "How about this, if you want to help out then one or two of you can go and find some more firewood. I'm pretty sure my cousin was up here last and she never restocks so we're probably running pretty low."

All three elves immediately stood and Hazel had to wave them down and explain that they could fight over the two axes after breakfast. Thankfully, the pudding didn't take too long to bake and Hazel got a good laugh out of how awed both Maglor and Glorfindel were with her little sieve of powdered sugar. Meanwhile, Maedhros watched it all with his usual distrustful glare. 

Being a bit more awake after downing the rest of her tea, Hazel perked up considerably. She watched the three elves with that never ending curiosity as they each delicately sliced into their food, maneuvering their utensils with precision. In particular, the way Maedhros managed fascinated her. It was obvious that the eldest Feanorian had been raised a prince as even with one hand, he managed to cut his food into bite sized pieces and eat more neatly than Hazel. Despite having two perfectly working hands, she already had several gloops of syrup and a good amount of powdered sugar spilling off the sides of her plate. 

His eyes suddenly flickered up and he caught her staring at his single hand. He maintained eye contact as he raised one eyebrow in a silent challenge. 

Then, somehow the entire table had noticed and now they were all staring at her. 

Hazel felt her cheeks flush as she realized how terrible it looked. There she was, staring at someone because of how they were different... she felt like an ignorant idiot and they must all think her such. 

"I- sorry..." her hands abandoned her fork and knife, dropping to her lap as her head bent to hide some of the red now probably encompassing her face. "I- I didn't mean to stare- honestly. It's just... it's just that I don't know how you do it- you're using a fork and knife with one hand and somehow you're still neater than I am... I mean look- there's not a single drop of syrup on the table next to your plate!"

She was still staring at the table, absolutely mortified and so she had no way of gauging anyone's reaction to her stumbling apology and explanation. It was due to this fact that she was entirely taken by surprise when Glorfindel threw his head back and laughed. 

Her head shot up and she watched as the golden-haired elf struggled to hold back his mirth. He was laughing so hard that his shoulders were trembling as a deep and clear laugh rang out like church bells. Maglor soon joined in, quickly rising in mirth till he too was holding his sides. Then, much to Hazel's surprise, Maedhros started chuckling as well. This left Hazel dumbfounded as she sat there amidst the manically laughing elves, all trying to catch their breaths. 

Finally, they calmed down enough for Hazel to get another word in. 

"Sorry. I- I didn't mean to offend-"

"La- Hazel," Glorfindel corrected himself as he spoke, still occasionally trembling with the after effects of laughter. "I don't believe anyone was offended. You have nothing to apologize for."

Her eyes then moved to Maedhros who was probably the calmest once at the table. He had already started eating again, and Hazel resisted the urge to again stare at the unique way in which he held his fork and knife. 

"I-"

"Hazel," Maglor cut in. "You're curiosity is-" a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "It's- refreshing." He looked to his brother who nodded at Hazel in confirmation. "We have encountered many who gawked at Maitimo's missing hand, who heard the stories-"

"Half of them false," Maedhros muttered. 

"And so they form their own opinions of his condition. We've seen many who were disgusted by him, who doubted him-"

"Not for long," he added in again.

"But I don't think we've ever encountered any who were amazed by his table manners." Maglor finished with another chuckle. 

"Hazel," Glorfindel cut in, mercifully changing the subject as Hazel still felt her reddened cheeks. "What are your plans for today?"

"Well... I actually noticed that the piano is out of tune so I'll probably be tinkering around with that."

"May I assist you?" Maglor noticeably perked up. "I am unfamiliar with the instrument, but we may be able to use my harp to assist in tuning."

"Actually, ya, I'm not the best at doing it by ear but I'm pretty sure you could do it in your sleep." Hazel sighed with relief. Honestly, she was pretty sure that Stephanie's instructions that last time she was in the cabin and helped her to tune the piano didn't quite stick well. 

"And I will be happy to gather firewood," Glorfindel stood, his usual smile gracing his lips. 

"Have you two axes?" Maedhros asked and Hazel hesitated a moment before answering honestly. 

"Yes..."

"Good, then I shall join you," he grinned a decently less friendly smile in Glorfindel's direction. 

Suddenly, the idea of the two fueding Noldor elves wandering in the woods together, unsupervised, and bearing very sharp axes didn't feel like the best of plans. But, one look at the way the pair were sizing each other up was enough to convince Hazel that it was something they would have to work out on their own. 

Plus she really didn't want blood in her uncle's cabin. 

***

To say that their search for fire wood was awkward would be an understatement. 

Think of the most tense, hostile, and overall awkward silence that you have ever endured... then imagine it being with one who you thought to be an embodiment of evil and yet couldn't kill... and then multiply that amount of tension by about fifty.

That was what it felt like as Glorfindel and Maedhros walked side by side in the snow, axes thrown over their shoulders and very pointedly not looking at each other. 

"I won't let you harm her," Glorfindel finally broke the silence. 

Maedhros' head turned sharply to glare at him. He never knew the elf in his own lifetime, though he heard tales of the Lord who died slaying a Balrog to save the refugees of Gondolin. He knew the tales that said that the elf save the princess, but would've saved the poorest farmer in the same manner. 

Of course, he was stuck in this strange, Eru forsaken world with the only Eldar aside from his brother a perfect, self righteous, and pure elf who died a noble death. He was a great Noldor warrior who didn't participate in the First Kinslaying... a rare thing indeed. 

A though then struck Maedhros. 

"You knew Earendil, didn't you?"

The words must have struck a nerve as Glorfindel noticeably tensed before nodding his head. 

"He was a child, but seven years old the last I saw him... though more mature than an elfling at his age for he was Peredhil." There was a somewhat wistful look in the warrior's eyes, the look of one calling upon an old memory. 

"Are the Peredhil immortal?" He asked. 

Glofindel again turned a sharp glare against him. 

"You don't know?" Glorfindel asked. Maedhros didn't respond and there was a pause before Glorfindel seemed to recall his history. "Ah, I forgot. You were in the habit of killing them before they could grow old."

Maedhros flinched a bit at the sting, knowing all too well that he was referring to both Dior and the twins he wasn't able to save- Elured and Elurin. The abandonment of the helpless twins was a sin that he had still yet to come to full terms with. 

"But now you have another pair of twins in your possession... don't you?" 

"Yes. Laurefindil-"

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

"Glorfindel," Maedhros corrected himself. "What becomes of these elflings? My brother he- he already loves them like his own... but-"

"You know I cannot say," Glorfindel replies, his voice now solemn. "There are things that you must discover for yourself."

That seemed to be something of an olive branch for they settled into a much more comfortable silence after that. The snow was crisp and white underfoot and their feet made no impression as they searched. Though they weren't as fond of the woods as their Silvan kin, they were still Eldar and thus hated the idea of chopping down any perfectly living tree for the sake of firewood. Instead, they wanted to find dead, preferably dry, wood that they could haul back to Hazel's home for firewood. They brought along ropes along with their axes to help them in this... but it seemed that he woods were well cared for as there were few naturally felled trees. 

They were in for a long search. 


	12. Chapter 12

"So..." Hazel still had her eyes glued to the door where the two elves had left. She was still quite a bit concerned that only one elf would return and thereby destroy the entire history of Middle Earth, but there wasn't much that she could do to stop the two ancient warriors if they really went at it with each other. 

"Your instrument, my Lady," Maglor said with a flourish of his hand, gesturing to the piano. 

Hazel couldn't help but laugh at his easy smile as she did a mockery of a curtsy before walking over and pulling up the lid on the piano. It was a beautiful, but rather old instrument and unlike violins, pianos don't improve with age. The old thing had a habit of getting out of tune during the long months when the cabin was uninhabited and Hazel dearly wished for it to sound as it once did. 

When she flipped the lid, Maglor gazed down at the inner workings of the piano over Hazel's shoulder with wonder in his eyes. To the elf who was used to his harp, the myriad of strings must have been quite a site. While he marvels over the craftsmanship of the instrument though, Hazel remembered that no one had dusted the inside in ages as she resisted the urge to sneeze on the giant dust bunny that attacked her. 

"It's wonderful," Maglor's voice was filled with awe as he delicately ran his fingers along the strings. "Tis such a shame to see a thing of beauty like this so ill cared for." A thought must have struck Maglor for he suddenly turned to Hazel. "Hazel, how did your family come to be in possession of such a marvel?"

"A marvel? I mean- it's a nice piano... but they're really not that rare. Grand pianos are a bit more on the expensive side... but they're not really that rare."

"You tell me that many of your posses instruments such as this in their homes?!"

"I mean, I guess," she shrugged as she pulled out the piano toolbox whilst Maglor went back to running his fingers lightly along the piano as he whispered to it. Hazel was half tempted to ask if they wanted a room... but she figured that he would't get the joke and she wasn't about to explain it.

Of the items in the piano's toolbox, Hazel recognized precisely three. There was a key that was used to turn the pegs to tighten the strings, an intuitive enough tool. There was also a fork thingy that Hazel was pretty sure was used to somehow match harmonics, but if she was being honest with herself then she just knew that her uncle or grandpa would hit it against the piano and make little adjustment based off of whatever he somehow heard. There was also a weird, long piece of cloth and Hazel actually didn't know what that did... but she supposed it was important. 

"Well," Maglor snapped out of his trance to look at Hazel expectantly. "These are the tools... I'm not quite sure how they work but..."

"Oh, this seems to fit the pegs quite nicely," Maglor smiled in appreciation as he found the key and immediately set about tightening a few strings that were obviously loose. "Ah, wonderful," he cried when he found the use of the fork. "Oh your smiths must be wonderful to craft such a beautiful piece... so simple, so elegant, and so precise."

"Ya... sure," Hazel couldn't help the little chuckle that made its way into her voice as she watched Maglor flit about the piano like an eager songbird. While Hazel knew the Feanorian well as a warrior and a minstrel, there were times when she forgot that he was a Noldor, a member of the elven race most famous for their crafting skills. Magor seemed to take to the piano like a natural and it didn't take long for Hazel to give up trying to learn what he was doing. Instead, she brewed herself some tea and prepped lunch, eventually returning to sit and simply watch as Maglor worked his magic. 

"This is an amazing piece of craftsmanship!" He practically whispered in awe. 

"I think you've said that," she commented whilst taking a bite of her sandwich. "Hungry? I made lunch."

"I'm quite alright, thank you," he waved off the offer distractedly. "Oh my these foot pedals! How did I miss them before? What a wonderful way to adjust... oh!"

He was bouncing all around the piano, marveling at every new little discovery that he made. As he moved, his long hair swayed behind him, flickering back and forth as his head swerved in excitement. His long, nimble fingers plucked at the strings as he hummed along to the tunes he made. Every time he leaned in close though, his hair would spill forward and muffle the strings, causing him to absentmindedly flick it backwards. Hazel watched this occur several times before she found herself annoyed with it. 

"Oh just tie it up," she grumbled as she approached him from behind, gathering his hair. Like the time before, he jumped at her touch but quickly relaxed as she carded her fingers through his soft tresses. "How is your hair never tangled?"

Hazel was honestly a bit jealous. Her hair was constantly tied up in a long tail or back in a bun. If she left it hanging then it would inevitably become a massive tangle. Yet, his hair was almost as long as hers and it never seemed to tangle. 

"Eldar hair usually doesn't."

"So not fair," she was still brushing her hands through his hair as she spoke. "If it's getting in your way, why don't you just tie it back?"

"We usually don't tie our hair as you do... Eldar tend to wear their hair in braids," he replied, his hands still flitting across the piano, this time a bit faster, almost nervous if Hazel didn't know better. 

"Come on then," she tugged him over to the couch. "The piano sounds great. I don't know how much more you can tinker with it."

After shoving him in the direction of the couch she walked over to a dresser in the corner and rummaged through it until she found a small box filled with various hair ties and combs. She plopped herself behind Maglor on the couch and began combing his hair just in case a tangle happened to defy all odds and make its way into the perfect elf's hair. 

"What are you doing?" He asked in half bemusement. 

"I'm braiding your hair. I always do this with my friends, relax I'm good," she smiled as she worked.

Hazel spent a few moments squinting her eyes, looking at his hair and judging what she wanted to do. With her mind made up, she carefully sectioned off small chunks of his hair and began setting up a plan for several small braids near his temples that she could gather at the back of his head. She began braiding and felt the elf relax as she got into her work. Hazel had always worn her hair long, since she was a little girl. Her mother taught her to braid when she was a little girl and Hazel quickly became very good at it. Whenever she and her friends went out, the rules were always that Hazel was in charge of hair, and Megan was in charge of make up. 

Braiding Maglor's hair however, was an entirely new experience. His hair was soft and fine, yet it obeyed her fingers readily, neither sticking nor slipping as she wove the thin plaits. While he was a bit tense when she started, the further she got in the braids the more he relaxed. Hazel surprised a chuckle as she mentally compared him to a cat who freezes when you first touch it, but quickly melts and beings purring once it warms up to you. 

"Certain braids have meanings," he remarked. 

"Really? What about three braids at each temple gathered together?"

He paused and then chuckled a bit. 

"What?"

"It's..."

"What, come on. Tell me?!" She couldn't help but laugh along with him. In that moment, she felt like a teenager again. Sitting there on the couch, braiding hair, and laughing together... it was like when she was a kid and her friends had long sleepovers at Stephanie's house. 

"Well," Maglor finally admitted. "Such a style is usually worn by a wandering minstrel. It's worn, in part, to signal peaceful intentions."

"I think that suits you."

"I'm not sure if it's fitting for me to wear after what I've done," he whispered, the mood suddenly turned somber as both Hazel and Maglor were once again reminded of the Feanorians' past. 

"I know that you're not proud of everything that you did," she spoke slowly. "I know you tried to convince Maedhros to break the oath."

"And what else do you know?"

"You know I can't tell you-"

"The twins... they're just elflings-"

"I can't tell you anything... anything I say could ruin the future."

Maglor sighed, but nodded in understanding. Of course, his nod caused the braid that Hazel was working on to slip out of her grasp so she gave him a mocking swat across the back of his head before resuming her braids. He chuckled a bit at her antics, but there was still a line of tension in him. 

"I know that we have asked, but... how- how much do you know of all the things I am not proud of?"

Hazel hesitated, half of her wanted to claim that she just knew the basics about them, but she knew that it would be a lie and she was frankly a terrible liar. Thus, she decided that honesty was the best route for her to go. 

"I know a lot. I know about the swearing of your oath, about your mother begging your father to leave at least one of her youngest sons with her... I know about the ship burning and what happened- who was lost there," she paused, but Maglor made no sound to interrupt or stop her, so she continued. "I know of the Kinslayings, what you did in each... and I know of the time when you were forced to be Regent... and the impossible choice that you were forced to make."

A single tear made its way down Maglor's cheek just as Hazel finished the last braid. The gathered the six small plaits together and used a piece of red ribbon to tie them before moving to sit in front of Maglor. It was a strange thing to see this centuries old Kinslayer, mighty warrior of an elf crying on her sofa. His voice sounded wretched as he spoke. 

"You know everything then... then _how_ can you sit beside me, how can you offer my brother and me shelter in your home? How can you bear to look at me?!"

"Because I also know that you regretted your actions, that you have a gentle soul beneath the shield of a warrior that you've built. I know that you held the Gap of Maglor for four and a half centuries, far longer than should have been possible with the dangers of it. I know that you took pity on the twin sons of Elwing, despite your brother's mistake with her brothers and... I know you care about them."

"And if I allow my filthy curse to taint them? I will doom them with my presence!"

"You cannot allow such despairs to hold you," Hazel watched Maglor cry for a few moments before the sight weighed too heavily on her heart. Deciding to throw all cautions to the wind, she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly. "I cannot tell you your future, but can say this... I know enough about you to trust you despite the mistakes that you've made. If I can trust you, then surly that means that there must be something good that you do in your future that I now know of."

For a while she held him as his tears subsided. Slowly, the elf calmed down and uncurled from his position, his eyes drying and quickly showing no hints of the earlier redness. Hazel wordlessly fetched him a mug of tea and some sandwiches. The pair ate the their lunch in silence before Hazel gently brought up the topic of musical genres. Quickly, she and Maglor fell deep into a conversation about her world's music and she found herself flipping through her family's record collection. 

The earlier sadness was brushed aside as she and Maglor engaged in friendly, though rather lively, debates about music and artistic merit. Maglor seemed to love opera, be fascinated by musical theater, and loathed rap. The expression that he made when Hazel played her Uncle's Ice T "6 N The Morning" record was something equivalent to what she imagined Voltaire would've looked like if he witnessed the burning of the Library of Alexandria. 

By the time Glorfindel and Maedhros returned, miraculously with no new wounds, all traces of earlier sorrow were long gone. Aside from a slight amount of teasing from Maedhros as to how Glorfindel had possibly fallen into a trap presumably laid by a man; where Glorfindel strictly defended himself in claiming that it was hidden by an extremely skilled hand, dinner was mostly peaceful. 

If only such peace could possibly last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick little history blurb about what Hazel is talking about. 
> 
> Basically Feanor had seven sons, the two youngest of which were twins who were a fair bit younger than their brothers (idk ages). When Feanor and his sons swore their oath and left, Feanor's wife Nerdanel, begged Feanor to leave at least one of the two youngest boys with her for she knew that nothing good would come of their oath. Feanor refused and took them with him, but when they arrived at the shores of Middle Earth, the youngest son, Amrod, was horrified by his father's deeds and wished to return. Thus, he spent that night sleeping on the ships. Feanor didn't want his people trying to return and thus, he and his sons (except for Maedhros who alone refused) burned the ships, not realizing that Amrod was still on them. This isn't in every version of the legend, but it's a pretty horrifying though that after the first Kinslaying, one of the first acts of the Feanorians is the burning of the ship that their youngest brother was on without them knowing. 
> 
> The part about Regent is Hazel referring to the time when Maedhros was captured by Morgoth and Maglor, being the second oldest, was Regent High King of the Noldor. Morgoth offered a trade and claimed to want to negotiated Maedhros' release, but Maglor had to refuse to negotiate for his brother's life as he knew that he couldn't trust Morgoth... probably the right decision considering Maedhros was captured when he went to go and negotiate a treaty with Morgoth, but still a heartbreaking decisions for Maglor to have to make.
> 
> I'm no expert, so feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Check the comments for mini fics regarding the formation of the rules****
> 
> *Slight Warning*  
> Hazel goes hunting in this chapter so that involves well... hunting. She's a responsible hunter though, I promise.

The addition of the re-born Balrog Slayer resulted in a surprisingly smooth transition into the household. When everyone got over their urge to murder each other and so long as Hazel prevented Maedhros, who had a shockingly silver tongue, from squeezing out hints about the future from Glorfindel, life at the cabin was simple. It didn't take long for Hazel to realize that idle elven warriors only resulted in squabbles and so, like her parents learned to do with her brothers, she kept them occupied. 

In truth, she didn't think that cabin or the surrounding property had looked so good in years. All three of the elves were skilled with their hands and quickly learned how to wield her tools. At one point, Maedhros made an off handed comment about how of course the sons of Feanor knew how to craft... and that resulted in several hours of awkward silence; but never the less, soon every broken chair, squeaky door, and leaking pipe was fixed in the course of two days. Hazel then was left trying to come up with new and increasingly complex chores for them to do during the days. She had the task of shoveling the long, snow-covered road that her car was stuck on as a last resort to keep all the elves physically occupied if possible. 

Thus, a routine was established. Hazel would wake up and find Glorfindel at her door, much to her annoyance, and get breakfast cooking. The elves would usually all be awake well before her, but they would join her at the table and verbally spar a bit while she woke up over a mug of caffeine. Then, she would set about a list of tasks which she would offer as suggestions, but wasn't afraid to turn them into orders if anyone felt like dueling would be a better way to spend the day. From there the elves would be off and Hazel would have a few hours of peace to read. By lunchtime, they would return having miraculously completed a list of chores that would usually take her whole family two days to complete in a matter of hours, and she would prepare a lazy lunch whilst trying to come up with more things to keep them occupied.

By evening, the elves would generally return and help her in the kitchen- except Maedhros who once lit a pot of pasta on fire, and they would have dinner together. After dinner, Maedhros often went off to sulk on his own, Glorfindel tended to make a "security check" around the cabin, and Maglor would sit with Hazel for her harp lessons with her teaching him the piano in turn. Of course, he caught onto the piano far quicker than she picked up the harp, but he was responsible for the piano sounding so lovely after all, so she couldn't quite begrudge him that. Then, late at night, they would all go to sleep and it would all begin again. 

As time granted Hazel experience, a list of rules was created and, despite Maedhros' annoyance, posted. The rules were as follows:

1) Boots by the door, and mud stays outside

2) If it's shiny and isn't yours, don't touch it

3) Nothing in this cabin is magic or evil so if it makes a strange noise or moves, do NOT bash it with a sword

4) Mentioning of historical/future events that can change the course of Middle Earth is strictly forbidden 

-addendum: attempting to manipulate others into revealing such events is also forbidden 

5) Absolutely NO duels to the death over honor, vengeance, or justice. 

-addendum: no duels of ANY kind, that includes wielding "harmless" objects as weapons because yes... kitchen spoons can apparently break bones

6) The dinner table is not the place to discuss the most efficient ways to gut an orc

7) No touching, inspecting, or even looking at the guns/gun safe

8) No "Balrog" jokes 

9) No "lefty" jokes

10) Maedhros Nelyafinwe Maitimo Feanorian is NOT under ANY circumstances, allowed access to the kitchen stove/oven/microwave/toaster 

11) Grabbing food/drinks is fine, but if you aren't 100% sure about what something is, PLEASE ask before ingesting

12) Disagreements over musical tastes are fine, but as soon as pointy objects become involved they are no longer okay

-addendum: purposefully selecting songs to personally attack others is strictly forbidden 

The list was rather long, but with new rules being added at a rate of at least 1-2 a day, Hazel had a feeling that the list was soon to be much longer. 

After one particular incident strongly related to rule number 5, everyone's favorite rule to break, Hazel sent all three elves outside to shovel snow like naughty children. She went to the pantry to see what could potentially make a palatable lunch and found that her store were surprisingly low. Now, they were in no danger of starving to death before the elves managed to clear the rather long road as Hazel's family always kept plenty of supplies, but she also really didn't want to have to explain to her family why their stock of canned goods disappeared while she was at the cabin by herself. There was no good way to explain how she went through that much food and thus, she grabbed her rife and set out. 

Hazel learned to hunt when rather young as her father strongly believed that she should be just as capable of living off the land as her brothers. Her mom, coming from a slightly more city-dwelling family, fretted a bit the first time she came home with blood in her hair after gutting her first deer. However, the woman quickly relented when she realized how skilled Hazel was becoming, and how happy it made her. Hunting was, of course, for subsistence only and Hazel's family kept a close eye on the deer populations on their property. She knew that the herds had a particularly prolific season the past spring and thus, the population was due for a culling anyway. 

With that in mind and three elvish warriors with surprisingly large appetites, Hazel grabbed her rife and set out. 

There was nothing that she loved more than traversing the wilderness, the wind playing with tendrils of hair that escaped her braid as she treaded lightly through the snow. Of course, she was incurably jealous of how the massive elves managed to move so silently and smoothly across the surface of the snow, but she did just fine when traversing game trails. She knew all the migratory patterns of the deer on her property and there were a few bucks that she knew would have to be taken out of the herd eventually anyway... might as well stock up the larder while she's at it. 

The further she got from the cabin, the more at ease she became. Legolas stopped by early in her hunt and, after a few treats that she packed along, ran off to whatever it is he does in the wild. On her own though, she could finally unwind as she had been meaning to since she first drove up to the cabin. The birds, unperturbed by her presence, sang in the trees above her and she was able to pretend for a short period of time that she didn't have the makings of a cosmic joke waiting for her back at home. 

As she climbed the crest of a small hill, nearing the rocky cliffs where she was always banned from sliding as a child, she saw one of the bucks that she'd had her eye on. It was a good size, but it had obviously been injured in the rut the month before. One of its front legs was broken and badly healed, the poor thing had a decent store of fat, but probably still wouldn't survive the winter. Hazel swung her rifle into her hand, crouching low to blend in with the scraggly winter brush. She silently crept forward, grateful that the buck was upwind of her as it slowly meandered along, nibbling on bark from stripped trees. 

When she got as close as she dared, she paused. The air was crisp enough for her to see her breath as she exhaled with each breath. She leaned into her rifle, pulling the buck into her crosshairs. Hazel was always called tender-hearted by her salt-of-the-earth Grandma and she never liked the heart or lung shots. They tended to cause the deer to run and result in following a blood trail till the poor thing died of suffocation. Instead, she waited until he was exactly perpendicular to her and lined her crosshairs at the shoulder. Hazel eased herself into a calm, feeling her heartbeat slow as her finger slid into place on the trigger. The buck's head was down, he was still and in the perfect position. Hazel exhaled slowly and squeezed. 

The bullet shot true, flying in one shoulder and out the other, snapping the buck's spine as it went. The buck convulsed once and dropped to the ground, barely twitching. Hazel stood with a satisfied and slightly triumphant smile. She knew that by the time she reached it, he would be dead. For a moment, she regretted not bringing one of the elves along to help her field dress and carry the buck back, but she shook off that thought as reminded herself that she was perfectly capable of tying the carcass to a sled and dragging it back. 

As she stood though, that confidence in her solitude wavered when she felt the sharp prick of a blade at her neck. 

"What sort of Mordor-spawned evil is that?" A deep voice growled from behind her. 

When she heard the words that were spoken, her fear was paused by a surge of annoyance. If there wasn't a blade at her neck, she would've likely been rolling her eyes. 

_You've gotta be fucking kidding me!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but uh oh... 
> 
> ALSO, since I had a bit too much fun writing that list of rules, I've decided that if anyone wants to leave a particularly nice comment, I might just be convinced to write a mini comments fic about how a specific rule came into being. No promises on how long they'll take me however, as I'm a professional procrastinator. 
> 
> **EDIT**  
> Sorry, I think I wasn't clear. If you'd like to see a mini comment fic about a specific rule, then please let me know in your comment what rule you'd like to see. Each rule has at least 1 specific incident that lead to its creation.
> 
> Mini fics posted in the comments- 
> 
> *Addendum to Rule 5
> 
> *Rule 6
> 
> Edit #2:   
> So the comments section has gotten pretty clogged up. Thus, I posted another story in this series title "Hazel's Halfway House for Wayward Heroes" which will contain all the rule fics as I write them.


	14. Chapter 14

There was a very sharp blade pricking Hazel's neck as she stood still half crouched from where she shot the buck. The voice speaking was rough and lacked that musical quality of elves, but she hadn't heard anyone approaching despite the silence. Another voice, closer and to her left where the blade was coming from, spoke. 

"If you hold no ill intention then we bear you no ill will, but you must put your weapon down," this one was also too rough to be an elf, but slightly calmer than the first. 

It was then that Hazel realized that she was surrounded by two men, one with his blade at her throat, and the other being the one who first gave the order standing behind her. She could hear the man's footsteps as he walked closer to her. Ever so slowly, she turned her head to look at the man holding the sword. 

He was tall, not Maedhros tall, but definitely taller than the average guy. He had dark, greasy hair that fell to his shoulders and stormy grey eyes. The first man to speak made his way around the grey eyed man. This one shuffled his feet through the snow, creating the distinct crunching sound of foot steps and carried a sword aloft as well. Despite not being the one holding a sword to Hazel's throat, he seemed angrier and thus more threatening. 

"Did you no hear us, Witch? Drop your weapon," he demanded. There was something in his voice that made Hazel assume that he was the type used to being listened to. 

"I- I think there's been a misunderstanding-" her voice was tight with anxiety, but the blade stayed steady at her throat. Hazel began to contemplate simply screaming. Sound traveled far in the middle of nowhere and she knew that elves had insanely good hearing. Even with her three houseguests being a good way down the mountain road near her cabin, they would probably hear and come running... if the men didn't murder her first. 

"How did you bring us here?!" The angry one shouted, rage coloring his tone. "Do you work for Saruman? Did you bring us here?!"

Hazel had her mouth half open to speak when she was interrupted by a loud rustling of the underbrush. A very short and stocky man with flaming red hair came sprinting out bearing a massive ax. Hazel felt her jaw drop. 

"This lass was the source of that terrible sound?" The red head seemed unconvinced. 

The gears in Hazel's mind were whirring. There was a very tall man with Noldor grey eyes who was able to sneak up on her without a sound, a man with a temper bearing a silver horn, and now a red-haired dwarf with an ax. If there wasn't a blade at Hazel's throat she would've whacked her forehead for not catching on sooner. 

"You, you've gotta be kidding me," she spoke aloud, more to herself than the suddenly far less threatening men surrounding her. "I mean, come on! Does the universe think this is funny or something? Did I piss off some gods with a sense of humor?"

"Speak clearly, woman!" The angry man- Boromir certainly, yelled. 

"Oh shut up Boromir, I'm trying to think," Hazel ignored his shocked expression as she began going over what they said, trying to determine where in the timeline they were. Obviously it was before the breaking of the Fellowship as Boromir was... well alive. 

"How do you know my name?" His voice was rougher now and Hazel could tell that he was trying to appear scarier. But, she had spent the last couple weeks with two ancient kinslayers and a legendary warrior sent back to live by gods. It took a lot more than one angry man to scare her. 

"I know your name, Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor, just as I know that Prince Legolas Thranduillion of the Woodland Realm is somewhere in the trees pointing an arrow at me," she crossed her arms and jutted out her chin, leveling a challenging gaze of Boromir. 

Now, the sensible thing would've been to de-escalate the situation, to put down her gun, show that she wasn't a threat, and then explain things in a calm and orderly fashion. But, Boromir's angry attempts to intimidate her and him shouting "woman" in a tone that dripped misogyny made her angry and thus perhaps a tad bit overly sarcastic. 

The taller man, obviously Aragorn, looked startled for a moment. His eyes flickered to somewhere above Hazel's head and before she knew it, there was blond haired elf with a drawn bow standing before Hazel.

"You know who I am?" He questioned.

"Yup."

"And what about me?" Gimli asked.

"Gimli, son of Gloin. Your father as part of Thorin Oakenshield's party that reclaimed Erebor. Listen, I know a lot about you guys, and the reason why it kinda hard to explain. But, there are currently four men- well two men, and elf, and a dwarf, with pointy objects directed at me so I'm obviously not much of a threat. Can we all please just put out weapons down and talk like civilized people?"

"And do you know my name as well?" Aragorn asked, there was equal parts caution and curiosity in his tone. Hazel turned her gaze to Aragorn who still had his sword to her throat. Again, probably not her brightest move, but she had had it up to her limit of blade wielding fiction characters and she really needed to stand all the way up and stretch her legs because they were starting to cramp. 

"Well, that depends on what you're going by at the moment." Hazel was fairly well versed in Lord of the Rings due to her friend Riley's obsession. But, she especially knew Aragorn's plethora of names because it was always a point of humor for her. "There's the ridiculous name that you use with the Rangers of Strider... not very original if you ask me. But there's also your true name of Aragorn, son of Arathorn. There's also your elvish name of Estel as it was given to you by Elrond. Or perhaps you'd prefer Thorongil, which you used when you served Gondor secretly..."

Hazel paused when she saw the way his gaze had hardened. 

"How do you know these things?" His voice was low and dangerous. 

"Hey, don't get mad at me. You asked." She was tired, and starting to get cold, and she really needed to go field dress that deer that she just shot. "Listen, I know about your Fellowship, I know about the creepy ring that Frodo is carrying, and I really don't mean you any harm. So-"

"She is a servant of the enemy!" Boromir raised his blade higher, but was stopped with a gesture from Aragorn. 

"Do I look like a servant of the enemy? Don't you think that Sauron would be a little smarter than to send a five foot tall woman deer hunting on the off chance that the Fellowship of the Ring passes by so that she can, what? Tell them all their names when she first meets them? I'm sorry, but you guys are very far from home and I'm not quite sure how you got here... but I know who you all are because in my world, the world that you've probably just recently landed in, your tale is a story. It's a work of fiction that I've read many times. I know this is freaky and doesn't really make sense, but it's the truth."

"You know who we are, you know our stories?" Legolas asked, a curious tilt to his head. 

"Yes."

"Prove it then," Aragorn's voice was firm as he made his demand. "Tell us something that no servant of Sauron could know."

Hazel ran through a myriad of possibilities in her mind. She could say something about his love for Arwen, but then again there might be others who know about it. Anything regarding Gimli's father had probably been shared by Bilbo at some point, she didn't really know many secrets about Legolas, and anything that she said to Boromir would probably result in him taking a swing at her. Then, one thing came to mind... a phrase that was said in private and she doubted had been repeated since. She turned to look Aragorn in the eyes as she repeated the phrase that Riley had once spent an entire weekend teaching her how to say properly. 

"Onen i-Estel Edain, ú-chebin estel anim," _I give hope to man, I keep none for myself._ They were the words that Aragorn's mother said to him before her death. 

The man remained frozen for several moments before he slowly lowered his sword. 

"What did she say?" questioned Boromir, but Aragorn shook of his inquiry. 

"I believe her." He looked to Hazel. "You tell us that we have landed in a different world?"

"Yes."

Aragorn looked at her for a while, his eyes scanning her over and appraising her before he nodded his head. 

"We'll talk her to Gandalf and the hobbits."

"And her weapon?"

"Ya, I'm not letting you guys touch this," but, since the others, excluding Boromir, had lowered their weapons, Hazel slung her gun back over her shoulder. "But I do still need to field dress that buck. I'm not wasting a kill."

Aragorn looked to Legolas and the pair shared a quick conversation in Sindarin before the elf turned and moved in the direction of her kill. He pulled out one of his long, elvish knives as he went. 

"Legolas will dress the deer for you and meet us at the camp where Gandalf is. He is-"

"A wizard, yes," Hazel tried to hide the relief in her voice at the mention of Gandalf. If Gandalf was present, then that mean that they hadn't passed through Moria yet. Plus, he was probably the only one with a chance of actually solving the mess that they were in. "Well, let's go then."

Boromir looked like he wanted to protest, but Aragorn shut him down with a look. 

And so, the trio of two men and a dwarf escorted Hazel to a clearing just a little ways away from her hunt. There, surrounding a small and smokeless fire were four little, barefoot men and a tall, grey cloaked figure smoking a pipe. It wasn't hard to tell that she was about to meet the rest of the Fellowship. 

Aragorn hailed Gandalf who looked at Hazel with a glint of curiosity before he was pulled aside by Aragorn. The pair moved a few feet away from the clearing and were conversing in Sindarin. So, Hazel plopped herself down next to the closest hobbit and ignore the way Boromir kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. 

"Well lads," Gimli seemed charged with introducing the surprised looking hobbits to Hazel. "She's from erh, here... which is apparently a place where she knows about us all from stories."

"Have we really been throw that far Master Gimli?" The slightly pudgier hobbit asked with wide eyes. 

"I'll take it that you're Sam," Hazel smiled and offered a hand for him to shake. "I'm Hazel, just Hazel. No 'lady' needed when addressing me." She then turned to the slightly more somber hobbit next to him. "Frodo Baggins I presume?" He nodded and shoot her hand, a look of surprise etched into his features. "So then there's Merry and Pippin, but apologies I'm not quite sure who is who."

The pair cheerfully introduced themselves and began immediately bombarding Hazel with questions. Their energy was infectious and after just a few minutes she found herself laughing at a story about their uncle that they had randomly launched into. It wasn't very long until Legolas returned to camp carrying Hazel's deer as if it weighed nothing. He placed it down near the edge of the clearing and settled in without a word. It was shortly after Legolas' arrival that Aragorn and Gandalf finished their conversation and walked over toward Hazel. One look from the Wizard sent the hobbits off to go sit near Legolas several feet away. 

"So, Miss Hazel. I'm told that you know of our quest," he spoke with a warm tone, but Hazel could sense the layers beneath it. 

"Indeed, Olorin. I know a lot about all of you, but I don't intend to tell you about your futures. That seems like the sort of thing that would be dangerous."

The mention of his true name seemed to trigger something in Gandalf for his expression instantly changed. Gone was the facade of curiosity of and sincerity. Instead, he had a hardened look in his eyes and he nodded his head. 

"Tell us what you can then." 

And so, Hazel launched into her "different world" speech for the third time. She was actually getting rather proud of herself for how well she was able to tell it. Gandalf listened with rapt attention as she explained the basics of the modern world, how only the race of men existed, how they were tales that she had read many times over. Hazel then explained that Glorfindel was also there, and that he had been staying with her for a little over a week now. The mentioning of the warrior seemed to bring a good deal of cheer to both Legolas and Aragorn who seemed rather excited about the idea of seeing another of their own. When she finished her tale, Gandalf made a 'humppp' sound and took a few deep inhales of his pipe. 

"I have a few ideas on how we arrived... but it may take some time for me to undo this."

"You're saying that we're stuck here until then?" Gimli grumbled. 

"Yes Master Dwarf, it appears so. And we will not be returning to our journey any sooner by your grumbling," Gandalf snapped back.

"I sincerely apologies for our earlier meeting," Aragorn had one hand over his heart as he bowed. "We did not mean to frighten you and I would ensure you that we hold no ill intentions towards you."

"Don't worry about it," Hazel brushed off his apology with ease. She was too busy mentally checking over the size of her cabin and trying to figure out what the sleeping arrangements would be. "Trust me, I've had way more scares due to-"

Then Hazel paused. 

She had made this mistake with Glorfindel, and she really didn't want to make it again. 

_The Feanorians._

Her eyes swept the present company, passing easily over the hobbits, Gimli, and then Boromir. Instead she was looking between Aragorn, Legolas, and Gandalf. Aragorn would certainly know their tale and probably had mixed feelings about them since they did sorta raise his foster father. Legolas... well Legolas' father had survived the Second Kinslaying at Doriath. The Sindar still weren't fans of the Noldor and Maedhros and Maglor probably topped the list of their hated. As for Gandalf... who could really know. 

"Lady Hazel, are you alright?" Aragorn's voice sounded concerned and Hazel realized that she had probably gone pale. 

"Uh well... there's one more thing that you should uh, know before we head back to my place..." She chewed on her lip a little more before she was willing to come out and say the words aloud. "So... Glorfindel wasn't the first person from your world to arrive. A week or so before him... I found a pair of elves in the woods."

"We shall be glad to meet them," Legolas smiled, already lifting the deer carcass to carry it back. 

Gandalf however, seemed to have a bit more suspicion in his gaze. He realized that Hazel was taking their discussion down less pleasant routes. 

"About that... so they're from a different time period. They're actually from your guys' past and it's pretty important that they don't know about their future caus... you know... history and all that."

"Of course," now Aragorn sounded suspicious. 

"Well um... they've been very good houseguests and they haven't caused any trouble," a lie, but they hadn't caused the trouble that these folks would probably assumed. "In fact, they've sworn not to harm me and they've managed to mostly get along with Glorfindel."

"Hazel," Gandalf's voice had a warning tone in it. "Who are they?"

"Well... they aren't uh... the most popular individuals from history. But remember, we've got to get them back to their spot in time otherwise who knows that the history of Middle Earth will look like and we all know that-"

"Hazel?!" A voice called out. 

Hazel froze. 

She recognized that voice. It was unmistakable. She had learned the voices of her three houseguests very well in the time that they were staying with her, and she knew precisely who was about to stumble upon them. 

Her mouth clicked shut and she slowly turned her head to the spot at the edge of the clearing where everyone was now looking. Then, from behind a tree, emerged a very tall elf with flaming red hair, and one hand. 

There really wasn't a more easily recognizable elf in all of Middle Earth's history. 

"Maedhros Feanorian!" Legolas screamed. 

Maedhros had frozen in surprise, but before Hazel could blink, Legolas had his bow drawn and an arrow was flying towards the ancient elf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh these cliffhangers are just too fun! 
> 
> And so I'm thinking that since the mini fics about the rules are going to get buried in the comments section of the last chapter, I might just put them all into another story and post it as a part of this series.


	15. Chapter 15

For a split second, the world seemed to move in slow motion as Legolas' arrow flew towards the red-headed warrior. Hazel had her mouth open, half formed into a scream of warning when she saw Maedhros effortlessly draw his sword and slice the arrow in half. Said elf immediately looked to Hazel, his eyes sharp and cold as he scanned her, presumably for harm. 

Before Hazel could deescalate the situation, Legolas had drawn his twin blades and crossed the distance between he and Maedhros, launching himself into an attack. The ancient warrior seemed unperturbed by this development, his sword moving in a blur of steel as he easily fended off Legolas' attacks, not even bothering to look at the other whose face was creased in fury. 

"Are you well?" were the first words out of Maedhros' mouth, his eyes still examining Hazel and flickering over to evaluate the Fellowship. They, like Hazel, seemed frozen in shock with Aragorn and Gandalf being particularly difficult to read. 

"I- I'm fine," Hazel stumbled over her words as she watched how, despite Legolas' best efforts, Maedhros seemed to be barely paying attention to their battle. "They're from the future," she finally managed to force the words out in a rush. "They- they're good people and they're very very important to the future of Middle Earth so please don't kill anyone," her last words came out as a bit of a plea as she realized that whilst Maedhros seemed to be in no danger from Legolas, Legolas was very much in danger himself. 

"Foul Kinslayer!" Legolas spat. Hazel could see the way the elf's sides heaved for breath as he fought. 

"Then who is this elfling playing a warrior?" Maedhros sounded somewhat amused as he kept his eyes on Hazel with his question. 

"I am Prince Legolas Thranduilion," his twin knives were still a blur, but Maedhros' sword seemed to move thrice as fast. 

"Am I supposed to know you, little Sindar?" with a flick of his sword, he drew a sharp line across the Legolas' cheekbone. It was obviously intentionally shallow and seemed to be more a mockery than anything. "You've two blade and yet still leave your face unprotected," he tsked in mock admonishment. "Your footwork too is sloppy, but I expect as much from a Sindar trained warrior."

"Kinslayer! I am Legolas Thrandul-"

"Yes yes, I heard you the first time. Am I supposed to recognize your name?"

"My father is King Thranduil Oropherion. My Grandfather was there the night you slew the elves of Doriath, he witnessed the destruction that you wrought," his blades were still whirring, but it was obvious that Maedhros was easily keeping up. To Hazel's surprise, the Fellowship had remained quiet this entire time. It seemed very likely that they were both shocked and confused. 

"Ah, Oropher... that rings a bell. I believe he was a Sindarin Lord of some sort."

"He was a great king, forced from his home when you and your foul brothers-"

In a flash, Legolas' blades went flying and a strike to his legs with the flat of Maedhros' sword sent him to the ground on his back. The ancient elf had the tip of his sword at Legolas' throat and the forest seemed to fall deathly still. 

"You call me Kinslayer so you know what I am, you speak of Doriath so you know that I can do, and yet you attack me unprompted and insult my brothers. Are you so eager for a fourth Kinslaying?" His voice held that dangerous and deadly edge to it. If there was a "good time" for Hazel to get involved, that time had come. 

"Maedhros," she walked slowly towards him as she spoke. "Legolas obviously isn't a threat to you... and I promise he's not to me either... but he's from the future and he- all of them," she gestured vaguely to the still silent group behind her. "Are pretty important for the future and it's really better for no one to be dying right about now." 

Maedhros remained frozen for a few seconds more, a carefully neutral expression on his face as he examined the seething Legolas on the ground. Finally, he withdrew his sword, stepping back from the still furious elf, flippantly turning away from him as he drew out a cloth to clean the tiniest trace of blood from the tip of his sword. 

"Your footwork truly is a mess. I could've knocked you down before your knives touched my blade with the way you were leaping about," he tucked away his cloth and sheathed his sword, still not even looking at Legolas as he spoke. "But I suppose you never learned the Liltaraxe... pity."

"Nelyafinwe," Gandalf's voice broke the tense silence as Maedhros stepped closer to Hazel. 

"Olorin," he acknowledged back. "I don't believe I've seen you since Valinor."

"Much has changed in the world... when-"

"Sirion. Kana and I have been at our camp for a few weeks with our... guests."

Hazel saw Aragorn stiffen at his words and she had a feeling that she really should step in, but watching the Fellowship meet Maedhros was a bit like watching a particularly fantastic train wreck. As in, the kind that would result in fireworks and the end of the world.

"And so you just ended up here?"

"There abouts. My brother and I landed a few weeks ago. How far ahead are you?"

"The same time as Glorfindel," Hazel supplied quickly, trying to cue the Fellowship, particularly a certain elf and man, into keeping their mouths shut. 

"Did you have a hand in the re-birth of the charming Vanyar?" Hazel could hear the sarcasm dripping from Maedhros' voice. 

"He was sent back before me... and I think that is about as much as I should say on that matter. I presume then that Miss Hazel's other guest would be Kanafinwe?"

"You should know, I haven't any other brothers left," a sad, slightly sardonic smile creased his face as he turned his back to Gandalf, dismissing the wizard and placing his hand on Hazel's shoulder. "I presume we're to be taking them back?"

"Yes," she replied, watching from the corner of her eye as Legolas stood and gathered his blades. 

Hazel made for her deer, but Aragorn beat her to it and hefted the carcass onto his shoulders. Hazel granted him a grateful smile and watched as the Fellowship awkwardly set about breaking down their hasty camp. Maedhros, apparently deeming the Fellowship as a non-threat, stood off to the edge of the camp, his eyes fixed on the direction of Hazel's cabin. 

"We should- we should get going," Hazel proclaimed. Maedhros nodded and began to lead the way. As he passed by Legolas however, he turned at an inhuman speed and grasped the other elf by the collar of his tunic. 

"If you try something like that with my brother than may the Valar help you, for I will slit your throat and this time, it will not be so shallow." He hissed his words and released the prince, turning and continuing to walk as if nothing had happened. The cut on Legolas' face had already stopped bleeding, but there was still a thin smear of red across his otherwise unblemished pale skin. 

Boromir and Gimli seemed to tighten their grips on their weapons, but Aragorn remained with that look of confusion and uncertainty gracing his expression. Their walk was slow, with Maedhros taking the lead, Aragorn, Gimli, and Boromir somewhat behind him at a safe distance, then Gandalf, then Hazel, and then the hobbits at the back. The powdery snow was pure white and the air was crisp and cool. A small part of Hazel couldn't quite believe that she was walking through the snow with the Fellowship of the Ring, but somehow that's what her life had become. 

"What... what was that about?!" Pippin "whispered" in a voice that was probably loud enough to be heard by even Boromir who walked far ahead of them.

"Oh shut up," Merry snapped. "Gandalf trusts-"

"I wouldn't call that trust," Sam muttered under his breath. "But really Master Frodo, who was that elf, and why did Legolas try to kill him?"

Hazel could clearly hear their conversation, but they hadn't asked her yet so she decided to wait and see how it played out. 

"I- I'm not sure," Frodo's voice was small and filled with uncertainly. "The name Maedhros sounds familiar though... I think Bilbo has talked about him. He's a very ancient elf... and I think a very dangerous one."

"How ancient?" Sam's eyes were wide and curious. Hazel looked back at him over her shoulder and couldn't help but chuckle. 

"I believe he was born in the Years of the Trees... before the creation of the sun," Hazel smirked as all four hobbits openly gaped at her words. 

"Before the sun? Don't be daft, nothing existed before the sun!" Pippin cried. 

"Hey, don't call Miss Hazel daft," Merry smacked Pippin across the back of his head and Pippin responded by shoving Merry. That resulted in a brief wrestling match which encouraged a bit of a laugh out of Frodo. 

They continued to walk for a little while until Pippin's curiosity seemed to get the better of him. 

"What happened to his hand?" He asked in a quiet voice filled with wonder.

"Pippin!" It was Frodo who admonished him this time. "That's very rude."

"We haven't even been introduced yet! You can't go about asking that," Sam scolded. 

"But did you see the way he fought?" Pippin's curiosity was obviously undeterred. "I didn't know that was possible with two hands, let alone one."

"I wonder if it was like old Bumblefoot who got his hand stuck in the wheat mill?" Merry joined into the whispered conversation. 

"But he still has his hand... it's just all... crooked," Pippin shrugged as he spoke. "Or what about Misses Handycorks! She's missing a toe and they all say that she was born without it!"

"It's rude to speak of others like that," Sam admonished, but the two youngest hobbits were on a bit of a role.

"But you must be curious," Pippin was relentless. "Only one hand! How does one-"

"I was captured by Morgoth, the twisted Valar, who then hung me by my wrist from the cliff of Thangorodrim. I remained there a prisoner for 30 years until my cousin Fingon rode upon the back of one of Manwe's great eagles to rescue me. But the chain was unbreakable and so he cut off my hand," Maedhros, still leading the way at the front, spoke casually without looking back, but was loud enough for the hobbits to clearly hear him. "And Hazel is correct, I was born before the sun was formed."

All four of the hobbits gaped with Pippin's eyes growing impossibly wide. 

"Take care to underestimate the sharp hearing of elves, young Pippin," Hazel could hear the twinkle in Gandalf's eyes as he spoke. 

"Does that mean Legolas hear me making fun of his braids four days ago," whispered Pippin, even more quietly than before. 

Legolas' sharp glare was enough to answer that question. 

As they approached the cabin, Hazel saw two dots, one black and one golden, sitting on the old wooden bench in front. As they got closer, it became apparent that Maglor and Glorfindel had decided to make a sort of picnic of their lunch. It was also obvious that they sharp eyes were able to discern the strange party walking towards them and they were well prepared for the groups arrival. 

"Gandalf," Glorfindel, unaware that the Maiar's cover had been mostly blow, joyful greeted the wizard. 

Maglor raised one eyebrow, but Maedhros shot him a look that Hazel had learned from her years growing up with brothers that meant "I'll explain later."

"So uh... quick introductions!" Hazel clasped her hands together and put on her most unconvincingly cheerful smiles. "Well Glorfindel, you already know everyone so uh... these two are Maedhros and Maglor Feanorian... they're from the First Age of Middle Earth so please please be careful about what you say around them," she introduced the fellowship to her resident kinslayers, carefully redacting said part about them... not that Legolas hadn't already screamed it. "And ugh... Maedhros, Maglor, the men are Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir son of Denathor, the elf is Legolas Thranduilion, the dwarf is Gimli son of Gloin, the hobbits are Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin... and their party's guide is the _wizard_ Gandalf." She put a special emphasis on the word wizard as she figured that he really didn't need the Feanorians to be blabbering about his heritage to the Fellowship.

The introductions were a bit awkward and Legolas' "well met" with Maglor couldn't have sounded more like a threat if he tried, but so far Hazel hadn't seen any more blades drawn so she called it a win. 

"You have a bearing about you," Maglor tilted his head to the side as he examined Aragorn. "Strange, I would say there is something reminiscent of someone I cannot place in your eyes."

"I-" Aragorn looked to Gandalf who shrugged and Hazel realized that she was biting her nails as her anxiety over the whole situation just increased. "I'm not sure. Perhaps you once knew one of my ancestors."

"Perhaps," he replied.

Hazel had just opened the door, intent on shuffling them inside and out of the cold when Pippin decided to open his mouth once more. 

"Do they know about the-" 

Hazel knew what Pippin was about to say, but before she could open her mouth and shout, Gandalf had spryly lept the distance between them and smacked his hand across the hobbit's mouth. 

"No, they don't," Hazel made sure to glare as fiercely as she could at Pippin. "They are from the First Age and thus all mentions of your _journey_ should be kept distinctly apart from their time."

Hazel was really getting tired of trying to prevent inter time/dimensional crises. 

There was absolutely no way the Feanorians could find out about the One. Aside from their history of being especially attracted to very dangerous, shiny objects, the One Ring was forged by their nephew. Their nephew who was then captured, tortured to death, and carried by Sauron's armies as some sick banner. There was absolutely no way that they should ever find out about anything that the Fellowship was doing. 

"Olorin," Maglor, who obviously had either not caught onto Hazel's use of "Gandalf" or perhaps just choose to ignore it, questioned said wizard. "Why do you carry our cousin Turgon's blade?"

 _Glamdring... fuck._ Hazel's oh so eloquent brain supplied whilst she resisted the urge to smack her forehead. 

"I- uh," Gandalf actually appeared somewhat sheepish. "Well I recently found it..."

"The inscription was made by our brother Curufin," Maedhros was staring intensely at the blade. "No wonder it has survived so many ages."

"Yes... Glamdring has served me well," Gandalf was actively avoiding eye contact with the elves and if it weren't for the constant risk of everything going to hell, Hazel might have found it amusing. 

"You know its name?" Maglor seemed surprised. "The inscription is in Feanorian Quenya... I wasn't aware that you read those runes. We are not inclined to teach those outside of our family such things."

"I uh... I don't..." He absentmindedly tapped on the blade's hilt. "I had an- uh... expert... a scholar in ancient elvish dialects examine it."

"You mean Lord-" this time it was Hazel's hand which clamped over Pippin's mouth. 

"Nothing about Middle Earth in your Age," she hissed the words through clenched teeth. "Absolutely nothing unless you want your entire world to perhaps fall apart."

"An expert?" Maedhros had his brow raised. 

"Yes... an expert."

"Mmm hmm," Maedhros sounded entirely unconvinced, but he allowed the subject to drop. 

"Alright," Hazel stepped inside and shucked off her boots. "Welcome inside everyone, shoes by the door and if anyone is feeling helpful, they can linger outside for a little while to butcher the dear while I prep lunch."

Aragorn silently nodded and Legolas moved to his side. It appeared that they would be working and most likely gossiping together. Thus, that left Hazel, Glorfindel, the Feanorians, and the Fellowship minus their elf and one sane member in the sitting room. 

Most of the party had shucked off their boots, but the hobbits remained awkwardly by the door. 

"Oh right," Hazel realized why they had hesitated. "I'll grab a towel for the hobbits to wipe their feet."

She rushed over to the linen closet and returned with said towel, handing it off to the hobbits who were gazing in wonder at her home. Gandalf seemed mostly curios, but both Boromir and Gimli looked like they were about to start swinging. Hazel made a mental note to go over the rules with them later as she rushed to the kitchen, taking a moment to ponder between tea and something stronger. She ended up downing a pour of scotch before digging through the pantry in search of enough food for... _12... twelve male guests... four of which are hobbits..._

She did a few rough mental calculations and realized that she was really going to need to amp up her meal production. It was just as that thought crossed her mind that she heard Maglor speaking in a somewhat curious, somewhat exasperated tone. 

"Is anyone going to tell me what a hobbit is?"

_Well this should be fun..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liltaraxe- according to my very poor piecing of words together in a dictionary, means "dangerous dance" in Quenya. I like to think of it as some fancy footwork technique/training method that the ancient Noldor used to hone their skills. 
> 
> Kana is short for Kanafinwe, Maglor's father name. I like to think that the brothers have gotten used to their Sindarin names, but being around Olorin caused Maedhros to kinda slip back.
> 
> And so Gandalf's sword, Glamdring, was forged in Gondolin and belonged to Gondolin's King Turgon. But Turgon was brothers with Fingon and a cousin to the Feanorians. The runes inscribed on Glamdring supposedly gave it more power and Gandalf wasn't able to read the runes... only Elrond who was raised by the Feanorians was able to. Plus, lets be real... how many ancient elves were able to inscribe powerful magic with runes. In my headcanon, the sword was forged in Gondolin, but when Turgon met with Curufin, Curufin found it lacking and thus inscribed the magic runes on it. I like to think that Feanorian Quenya was basically a form of code that the family developed so they could write letters to each other without them being intercepted. Of course, it's a code not a language, but it would be a very Feanorian thing to call a code known only to them a language. 
> 
> Last note, I had a lot of fun with the fight. While we all know that Legolas is an amazing warrior and can hold his own against orcs and such very well... he's got nothing on Maedhros. Besides being a Feanorian, which in itself just seems to radiate power, he's among the ancient elves born under the light of the Two Trees. He fought in the war against the most powerful of the Valar, basically gods, and was renowned as a great warrior. Poor Legolas never stood a chance, and Maedhros knew as much... hence the messing with him as they fought.


	16. Chapter 16

With a few notes of panic and maybe a couple pours of brandy, Hazel threw together a platter of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches along with half the mugs in he kitchen filled with tea. Maglor was quick to slip into the kitchen and give her a hand with carrying everything back to the living room where Aragorn and Legolas had returned after apparently stashing the meat in the cold storage shed behind the cabin. 

Soon, Hazel found herself with a trio of ancient elves and the Fellowship of the Ring lounging in various states of armament across her couches, all nursing either a sandwich or a mug of tea. She once again went over the entire speech about the modern world and how Middle Earth was a series of stories in her world. Gandalf interjected with a variety of questions and by the time she was done explaining everything and answering Gandalf's interrogation, it was dark outside. Then there was an awkward silence... something that was becoming far too common. 

"So uh..." she awkwardly fidgeted with the mug in her hands. "I guess that's that... questions?"

"Miss Hazel-" Pippin began. 

"Just Hazel please... no Miss or Lady... that's just weird."

"Um, Hazel, if they," he gestured towards the Feanorians, "are from the past, then what aren't we supposed to talk about?"

Hazel glanced over at the discussed elves. Maglor was sitting on a chair dragged in from the kitchen and Maedhros was standing slightly behind him, his hand on the back of the chair. Hazel had always been aware that the Feanorians were dangers, she had noticed that stark difference between the way the Feanorians reeked of potential violence like a tethered storm whilst Glorfindel had the ease of a placid ocean. But now, next to the men, hobbits, dwarf, and elf of the Third Age, they seemed positively deadly in comparisons. Maedhros' considerable height towering above his brother did nothing to help the image. 

"Well," Hazel glanced at Gandalf, but spoke when she realized that he wasn't planning on helping at all. "Anything in regards to the nature of your uh... journey, or the one who set you off, or really any of the races of elves... most of the stuff about men... I guess it doesn't matter what you say about hobbits because I'm pretty sure your race doesn't crop up until the late Second or early Third Age."

"So we may discuss genealogy?" Merry seemed far too excited for such a feat and Hazel resisted the urge to groan. 

From the corner of her eyes, she watched Aragorn stiffen and was once again very much aware that he was technically a dependent of one of the Feanorians' kidnap sons and then raised in the household of the other. Maedhros of course, didn't miss the unease, his eyes suddenly narrowing on the man. 

"Well uh..."

"Perhaps we should instead be focusing on a way to return... we still have much to do in our world and it is essential that we send Maedhros and Maglor back to their time," Gandalf cut in, finally helping out. 

"Because one elf wasn't bad enough, now there's four," Gimli used his axe to gesture towards the elves in the room. 

"Listen, I know this isn't ideal but let's please try to avoid murdering-" Hazel was cut off by Boromir who was still eying both Hazel and the Feanorians with suspicion. 

"And we are to believe and trust this witch?" His voice was a growl.

"Boromir of Denathor, that is uncalled for-" Glorfindel began and was cut off by Maglor, who until this point had been remarkably calm. 

"Take care with how you speak," his voice, usually sweet and musical, was low and dangerously sharp. One of his hands rested idly on the handle of his blade as he fixed a deadly gaze on the man.

"Do you challenge me, elf," he half rose from his seat and Maglor, Maedhros, Gandalf, Glorifndel, and Aragorn all stood at once.

"Boromir, sit," Aragorn ordered, his voice unwavering with all the command of a king.

"You do not command me-"

"Boromir, you will not break hospitality and you do not wish to challenge the eldest Feanorians," Gandalf rose to his full height and glared down his nose at the man. 

The three standing elves were as still as statues as they silently challenged the man. 

"Oooookay," Hazel tried to break the tension building in the room. "So uh... that's enough chivalry for one day. Everyone can take their hands off their weapons and sit down. Again, no killing and definitely no blood on the carpet."

"Frodo," Pippin whispered in what he probably supposed was a soft voice, but was heard by likely everyone in the room. "Why does Legolas still look like he wants to murder the other elves?"

Legolas looked like he was about to speak, but Hazel quickly cut in. 

"Alrighty then, I think that's enough for introductions. Gandalf, any idea how this happened and how you can get everyone back?"

"I have a few theories... but if possible, I would like to see a map of your lands," he glanced around the room at the slowly drooping hobbits. "But, that can wait until tomorrow. It seems that everyone is quite tired."

"Perfect," she clasped her hands together with far too much false cheer. "So, I see the sandwiches are gone, but I'm assuming everyone is still hungry." She looked at the clock and mourned that it was already 10 pm and it was unlikely that she would get to bed anytime soon. "I'll just figure out something for everyone to eat and then we can figure out sleeping arrangements. Tomorrow we can work with Gandalf on maybe getting everyone home."

She then made her way into the kitchen which, luckily, was open to the living room so she was able to monitor her guests, half of whom were openly staring at each other and the other half desperately trying to avoid eye-contact. 

"Would you like a hand with supper Mi- er, Hazel," Sam asked politely. 

"No thank you Sam, but that's a very kind offer," she was sorely tempted to leave food up to the hobbit and just go to bed, but she also couldn't help but notice that the Fellowship was still gazing in wonder at her lighting fixtures and she really didn't want him to burn the cabin down. 

And so, Hazel set herself to work. There wasn't enough time to actually prepare any of the venison from the day's hunt so she settled with cooking a massive amount of rice and throwing together a stir fry in the giant wok. It probably wasn't a normal meal for the Middle Earth houseguests, but they would just have to deal with Chinese food as she really didn't have the energy for much else.

As she chopped and prepped the food, Hazel constantly had one eye and one ear on the adjacent room. Glorfindel had gone to sit with the Fellowship who were in little clusters, whispering amounts themselves. Gandalf sat in the old lounge chair that was Hazel's Grandpa's seat as he somehow figured out how to recline. He sat with his hands folded on his chest and his eyes half lidded, either concentrating on how to get out of the current situation or taking a nap- really the resemblance to Hazel's Grandpa was startling. Meanwhile, the Feanorians remained as still as statues, and yet somehow seemed totally at ease. Whilst the Fellowship was broken into whispering groups, something told Hazel that the brothers were in perfect sync with each other despite not saying a word. Maglor seemed slightly fascinated with the hobbits, his head tilted to the side as he observed them. Meanwhile, Aragorn was obviously trying to ignore the Feanorians as he spoke quietly with Legolas. 

For a little while, Hazel actually thought that this would work out. She fell under the impression that there was enough of a truce between the different groups to not murder each other whilst Gandalf figured out a way for them to all get home. That was quickly thrown out the window however when Aragorn turned slightly, revealing the hilt of his sword to Maedhros' view. 

In the blink of an eye, Maedhros had crossed the room and towered over Aragorn, who was incredibly tall for a man and yet still short beside the massive elf, yanking Aragorn's sword from his scabbard. 

There was a pause as everyone in the room froze in shock. 

Then a flurry of movement as weapons were drawn by nearly everyone. Legolas had his bow draw, Boromir his sword, and Gimli his axe all pointed toward Maedhros. Meanwhile, Maglor had cleared the distance and now stood at Maedhros' back, his own sword drawn as he guarded his brother with eyes alight with danger. The hobbits had all scurried back and were making a valiant effort to use the coffee table as a barricade whilst Gandalf stood stock still, his sword and staff half raised though pointed to no one. 

Meanwhile, Maedhros stood completely unconcerned with the chaos around him. Instead, he was solely focused on Aragorn's sword in his hand. Aragorn had not drawn one of his daggers, he just stood there, watching the Fenaorians with a carefully guarded expression. 

"Where did you get this," Maedhros' voice was eerily calm as he turned the blade to watch the light flicker off it. 

"It's-" Aragorn paused. "A family heirloom."

"No it's not," Maedhros said plainly.

Aragorn looked a bit affronted at the statement. 

"The blade has been passed down from father to son in my family."

"And where did it originate, before you forefathers stole it?" There was something dangerous in his tone. It was the deadly tone used by a king playing with pawns in court. 

"A smith most likely," Aragorn jabbed, obviously a bit offended by Maedhros' accusation of theft. Hazel made her way slowly into the living room, creeping closer in some absurd hope to defuse the situation.

"And I suppose you know the smith?" He then paused, looking closer. "The tip's been reforged."

"Yes," Aragorn looked to Gandalf who seemed just as confused by the series of events. "It was crafted in the First Age-"

"Wrong."

"And how would you know?" 

"Because I was there when my father made it."

Silence. 

One could hear a pin drop in the room. 

"You-" Aragorn began, his eyes alight with questions, but he was quickly cut off by Maedhros. 

"I was there when my father crafted this blade in Valinor." His eyes narrowed on Aragorn. "This is my sword."

Maedhros then nodded his head and Maglor obeyed the silent order, withdrawing Maedhros' sword from his sheath. And, sure enough, the swords were nearly identical. Seven stars were engraved on the blades of both swords and the only differences were the tips and the pommel. Whilst Maedhros' sword pommel had the eight point star sign of Feanor's household, Aragorn's pommel was slightly larger and smooth. 

Maedhros ran his stump over the smooth pommel on Aragorn's blade. 

"My father's sign has been covered up," he spoke quietly as if to himself. "But I would recognize this blade anywhere." He then turned to Aragorn, leveling the blade at the man's throat. "So tell me again, where did you obtain this sword?"

"He's telling the truth," Hazel wasn't sure when she started speaking, but her mouth seemed to be operating for her. "It's a family heirloom tracing back several ages. In all likelihood, one of his ancestors picked it up somehow from maybe a merchant or a troll hoard or some other source. Really, it came into his family so long ago that who knows where he they got it from. So really, please, if _everyone_ can put their weapons down then that would be lovely."

There was a beat a silence in a significant enough pause that Hazel became legitimately worried that she was going to witness a slaughter. But, luckily, Maedhros eventually pushed the sword back into Aragorn's sheath and stepped back. His eyes were still filled with suspicion and his gaze was absolutely murderous, but everyone eventually followed suit with returning their weapons to their proper places. Haze was quite sure that she heard a murmur of "elves" from Gimli, but she, along with everyone else, pretended not to hear it. 

"So uhh..." if she thought that it was awkward and tense before, well it had become significantly worse. "I... I think the food is done. Let's eat."

The hobbits seemed to be the only ones excited by the prospect, but no one turned down dinner and somehow the hobbits ate more than the elves and men, despite being less than a quarter of their size. The dishes were piled into the sink as it was nearing one o'clock and Hazel was far too tired to do anything about that. Sleeping arrangements went surprisingly well as it turned out that a single twin size bed fit two hobbits. Thus, the four hobbits, Gimli, and a reluctant Boromir took the room with two bunk beds. The other remaining free room had two queen beds with Gandalf claiming one and Aragorn and Legolas apparently not minding sharing the other. Hazel silently thanked whatever god that happened to be watching, and most likely laughing, at their situation for the fact that while Middle Earth wasn't without toxic masculinity, at least the men weren't constantly worried about "being gay." Glorfindel didn't have a room, but he still refused to sleep anywhere besides outside of Hazel's door and she really didn't have the energy to fight him on that. 

And so, Hazel sad goodnight, gave her strange houseguests strict orders to all read the posted rules and not murder each other, and then went to bed. As she changed into her pajamas and yanked the covers over herself, she couldn't help but ponder how strange her life had become. If she ever told anyone that she had twelve strange men staying with her in her cabin in the middle of nowhere, they probably would've thought that she was insane. In fact, if someone had told her that she would have twelve strange men staying with her in her cabin in the middle of nowhere, she would think herself insane. But instead, she just turned off her lamp and within minutes was sound asleep. 

She'd deal with the Fellowship of the Ring tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm still alive! 
> 
> Okay, so I know technically speaking, Narsil (renamed Anduril by Aragorn) was forged by the dwarf Telchar. But, it was always an heirloom of Elros' decedents and the mythology wasn't super clear on who was the first wielder, so I like to assume it was Elros since it was you know... his decedents who wielded it. In my headcannon, it was a gift given to him by Maedhros because I'm a sucker for the whole "Elrond was like Maglor and Elros was like Maedhros" and Elros always said that it was forged by Telchar because he didn't want to go around admitting that he still carried a sword made by Feanor and given to him by one of his kidnappers. Also, how else would it have been capable of slicing the One from Sauron's finger.


	17. Chapter 17

"Hazel..." there was a tapping at her door. "Miss Hazel... ummm... are you awake yet?"

Hazel groaned, rolling over in bed and looking at her clock... it was 5 a.m. 

"I think she's still asleep," another voice from behind the door said. 

"Maybe you should just go in there," yet another voice.

"Absolutely not! I am not opening the door to a lady's room. You should be ashamed of yourself for the mere suggestion."

"But everyone is hungry."

"No, you're hungry."

"You are too."

"Well that's beside the point."

As the bickering between three different parties continued, Hazel reigned herself to being awake. Her head ached and she wasn't sure if it was from the bickering, the lack of sleep, or the alcohol that she might have consumed the night before. It was likely all three. No matter what, there was no chance for her to go back to sleep with hungry hobbits in the cabin and she was afraid that if she took too long, they might decide to attempt to use her stove and she really didn't want them burning the place down. 

Thus, she rolled out of bed and was once again pleasantly surprised to find the cabin toasty warm. Luckily, that meant she didn't have to change right away as there was no possible way for her to become fully functioning on such little sleep without a good amount of caffeine. Thus, she made her way across the room and opened the door suddenly to find three hobbits, as she suspected, standing at her door with Sam's hand in the air midway through knocking. 

They were froze as they stared at her, faces flushed red likely from embarrassment at being caught such. 

"You wanted me?"

"Yes... errrr, sorry to disturb you." Sam, always polite, couldn't seem to make eye contact with her. "We hope that we didn't wake you," there was a snicker from Pippin at that, but he was silenced by a slap from Merry. "But... ummm... we were wondering if perhaps you might demonstrate to us how to properly utilize your kitchen... I'm uhhh... unfamiliar with your devices and we are uhhh... quite hungry."

It took Hazel probably a few too many seconds to process his request as her eyes dropped to the pillow that Glorfindel had commandeered on the floor. She briefly wondered where the elf had gone off to when he emerged from the nearby bathroom. As soon as he saw her he stiffened and followed Sam's lead of looking at the wall slightly behind her head. 

"Good morning Hazel," he had tight smile on his face and Hazel briefly wondered if he was feeling guilty about murdering one of the others. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine," she brushed off his weird behavior, deciding that it would be deciphered after she had her morning tea. "Alright," she looked towards the hobbits. "Let's get breakfast started."

She ambled down the stairs and half listened to a bit of hushed squabbling as she went. Moving on autopilot, she turned on the kettle before moving to the fridge and pulling out two cartons of eggs, cracking them into the largest mixing bowl she could find. She tossed in a generous pour of milk and shoved the bowl and a whisk into Sam's hands. She then began pulling slices of bread from a bag and shoving them in the toaster. 

As she went, the other three hobbits along with Glorfindel hovered near the kitchen, their eyes constantly darting towards her and then away. Again, Hazel was far to exhausted to deal with whatever their problem was so she continued to toss breakfast together. Hazel demonstrated to Sam how to use the stove, pulled up a stool, and set him to work frying the bacon. Meanwhile she chased a slightly red-faced Pippin away from the kitchen and relented into allow Merry to assist Sam with frying up the eggs.

As the smell of cooked food wafted through the house, the others started to come down one by one. First was Aragorn who took one look at the scene in the kitchen before abruptly turning his head to face towards the old wall-mounted clock. 

"Good morning Miss Hazel," there was an odd candor to his voice, but Hazel was far too busy pouring the boiling water over her tea bag to notice. "Is there... umm... anything I may assist you with?"

"Keep an eye on the hobbits... make sure they don't burn the place down," she murmured before taking her mug with her to the kitchen table. 

"Good morning. I can see-" Boromir and Gimli had made their way down the stairs together and both of them froze when they saw Hazel sitting at the kitchen table. 

"Er Lass-" Gimli started, but then froze and scurried into the kitchen with Boromir. 

Hazel could hear the distinct sound of a whispered argument from the kitchen and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was half concerned that they had broken something or someone over night. _It's far too early to be dealing with this._

"Aragorn, do you have a spare-" Legolas was halfway down the stairs, a set of trousers with a tear in them in his hands when he froze. His ears were turning an interesting shade of pink as he seemed to have his gaze fixed on Hazel. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

Aragorn emerged from the kitchen and that seemed to snap Legolas out of whatever trance he had been in. Now, his eyes were anywhere except Hazel and she was beginning to get seriously annoyed. Legolas and Aragorn shared a series of panicked looks and Hazel huffed in annoyance. 

"If you're looking for a needle and thread you'll find some in the cabinet by the record player. Check the second drawer," she pointed vaguely in the direction of said cabinet. She was only halfway through her tea and it was too early still. 

"I- erh... uh... thank you," Legolas finally managed to stutter out. He scurried into the living room and by the downs of a drawer opening and closing, obviously found what he was looking for. 

Hazel then became engrossed in a second mug of tea. The caffeine was finally starting to kick in and the dining room lights no longer seemed too bright. She slouched protectively over her mug as if afraid that someone would steal it, sighing heavily as she drank. 

"It seems that everyone is awake," another voice said as two figures with silent treads made their way down the stairs. 

"Yes, good morning-" Maglor froze and Maedhros, slightly behind him, froze as well. 

Hazel raised one hand in a halfhearted wave before tilting her head, watching as the two elves seemed to be staring at the wall just past Hazel's head. 

_Seriously? What's with everyone today???_

"First Breakfast is ready!" Sam called cheerfully, bustling into the dining room with a massive plate of eggs, followed quickly by Merry and Frodo who carried the bacon and toast respectively.They set the table and eventually, even mister "a wizard is never late" arrived to eat.

Breakfast was... awkward. 

It wasn't the same awkwardness of the night before when everyone seemed to be contemplating murder, but there was a strange tenseness in the air. No one was making eye contact with Hazel and there were a good number of elbow jabs and sharp whispers. The elves in particular seemed to be rather alarmed, ear tips ranging from light pink to scarlet every time Hazel attempted to engage in conversation with any of them and the men were rather tight lipped eyes darting between each other but never landing on Hazel. The hobbits and Gimli all had their eyes glued to their plates and only Gandalf seemed somewhat close to normal, although he also refused to look anywhere aside from the wall above Hazel's head. 

"Alright," Hazel banged her fist on the table. She had finished her third mug of tea and was really done with the awkwardness. "Whatever's going on, someone spill."

"I'm not sure what you are referring to-" Aragorn spoke to an apparently very interesting lampshade off to Hazel's left. 

"Oh cut the bullshit," she groaned. It seemed her language made Legolas flush an even darker shade of scarlet and she took a second to be amused by the youngest elf. "No one is making eye contact with me this morning. Now, everyone appears to be alive so I know at least there are no bodies to deal with, but what gives?"

"There's no need to worry-" Maglor tried, but Hazel snorted in response. 

"Did someone break something? If someone decided to take a sword to any of my appliances I would really like to know."

"I- I don't think it's anything like that..." Glorfindel was studying his plate of eggs very intensely. "I can assure you that there is nothing for you to worry-"

"Really it- it's nothing-" Frodo's feet were swinging beneath his chair as he spoke. 

"Will someone just spit it out!" She was so done with these idiots. Sure, they were all older than her, some by several centuries, but they were idiots. 

"I belive," Gandalf began, slowly examining his folded hands. "That this is in regards to... your- uh... attire."

"What?" Hazel looked down at herself and realized that she was still in her pajamas.

Normally they would be okay as she usually slept in flannels during winters at the cabin, but due to Maedhros keeping the fire going she had taken up the same sleepwear habits from her apartment back at school. This meant that she was wearing spandex shorts, an old tank top with a neckline that was maybe a bit too stretched out, and no bra. 

_Oh..._

Aragorn coughed. 

"It's- er... not custom for maidens in Middle Earth to... dress in such a manner," he spoke slowly. 

"Most especially when she is unmarried and in the company of men," Glorfindel added, his ears taking on an alarmingly red tone.

There was a certain irony there. She was living with twelve strange men and as a young woman she should've been concerned about her safety, but instead it appeared that all twelve were afraid of her breasts. She couldn't help but allow the laugh to escape as she realized that this wild and rowdy looking bunch were a crew of "proper gentlemen" who didn't know what to do with her in pajamas. She should've just gone to change, but in the ned she couldn't help but tease a little further. 

"I don't get it?" She asked as innocently as she could, facing Aragorn and leaning forward a little so that her neckline slipped a bit more. "What's wrong with my attire?"

Aragorn, the true King of Gondor, heir of Isildur, and defacto leader of the Fellowship of the Ring following Gandalf's fall, turned bright scarlet. 

"I- erh..." his eyes were darting wildly around the room, gazing anywhere but at Hazel. 

"What's gotten into him?" She then turned her attention to Legolas, a smile gracing her lips. "You'd think he's never seen boobs before."

And boy did that get a reaction. Legolas, a bit pale usually, turned a shade of red that Hazel didn't know was possible in elves. His ears especially turned so bright that she would've sworn it was some sort of a special effect. At this point, it was getting pretty difficult for her to hold in her laughter. She could see the hobbits whispering amongst themselves and elbowing each other harshly, Gimli and Boromir sitting off to the side grumbling and staring at the corner like pouting children, and Gandalf chewing on the end of his unlit pipe with his eyes raised to the heavens as if they would help. 

She was almost done, she swore. But, she had one more set of victims. 

"Really guys," she looked to her three original houseguests, the ancient elves of the First Age who suddenly seemed very occupied with looking at a spot hovering above Hazel's head. "Are you going to tell me why three ancient elvish warriors, famed for your bravery, older than the literal sun, won't even look at me? Come on... whats wrong?"

All three had a bright blush on their cheeks, but at her last comment cause Maglor to suddenly start choking and Hazel decided that she had tortured them enough. She finally released the laughter that she had been holding and ended up laughing so uncontrollably that she could barely breath. She promised the change and headed up the stairs still laughing uncontrollably before she managed to make it to her bed where she collapsed and laughed for another good ten or so minutes. 

In the end, she did indeed change into something more "appropriate," and went down the stairs with a handful of maps. She brought them to the cleared kitchen table and spread them out, briefly tracing the continents and explaining where they were first on a globe, then on a map of the United States. Gandalf decided that he would go over it and do his research whilst Hazel then had to figure out chores to keep everyone occupied and not murdering each other. 

Luckily, everyone seemed eager to do something and thus the hobbits all quickly volunteered to help with some cleaning and cooking around the house. Gimli ended up taking his axe to the massive fallen tree outside and chop it into firewood, and Hazel was at a loss with what to do with the elves and men so she sent them off to shovel snow. It wasn't an ideal solution, especially with the prospect of all four elves and two men being pretty much alone together... but she just had to trust that they would find a way no get along. 

Overall, the day was pretty successful. When the elves and men returned, all six who left came back and Hazel couldn't see any obvious broken bones or stab wounds. The firewood pile was absolutely massive, and the hobbits were shockingly good housekeepers and chefs. The entire cabin spelled of roast venison, baked potatoes, and a variety of vegetable dishes that Hazel had never heard of. Dinner was tucked away at a rapid pace and Boromir, much to Hazel's surprise, ended up being one of the first to volunteer to help the hobbits with the dishes. 

The evening was surprisingly peaceful. Night had fallen and the cabin glowed with the light of the lamps and roaring fire place. A day of hard labor seemed to be just what everyone needed to get the residual desires for fighting out of their systems.

Hazel's guests were scattered about the cabin engrossed in their own activities. All four hobbits bustled about the kitchen, pushing stools as they went in order to reach the cabinets and stove, bickering over the proper proportion of flour to sugar for the pastry dough that they were preparing. Apparently, there were severe disagreements over whose grandmother made better baked goods.

Gandalf, Aragorn, and Glorfindel had their heads bent over the set of maps that Hazel had brought down earlier. As they whispered amongst themselves, Gandalf made careful notes on a piece of scrap paper with a pencil.

Maedhros sat in the armchair that was earlier occupied by Gandalf, his eyes fixed on Aragorn with no small amount of suspicion in his appeasing gaze.

That of course left Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas. The three remaining members of the Fellowship sat in a loose circle with whetstones as they carefully sharpened their blades. Their work created a soft hum in the air as stone slid across steel in a steady rhythm. 

As for Hazel, she sat at her piano bench, Maglor standing slightly behind her as she played. She promised to show him more songs from "her people" and thus was going through some of her favorites. She just finished playing "What a Wonderful World" which was _certainly_ not a hint at her guests to quit their constant fighting. She noticed a few raised eyebrows at the song, but not much more than that. 

From the corner of her eye though, Hazel saw Maedhros, how as he watched every move that Aragorn made, the fingers of his remaining hand lightly traced his stump. There was always, in the background of his gaze, a haunted look in his eyes. Hazel still remembered the time, early in his presence at her cabin, when Maedhros came inside and for a moment mistook her for his cousin Fingon. She couldn't get the image of his pain out of her mind. As... prickly... as Maedros could be, there was a goodness somewhere deep inside him. He was a being who was pained, who had endured more than most could even begin to comprehend, and he was not left unscathed. His hand was one thing, but Hazel knew that scars like that ran deeper.

She wasn't sure exactly what spurned her into her next song, perhaps it was that haunted look in Maedhros' eyes. 

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Maglor, from where he stood behind her grew still. She continued her song, her voice lightly rising above the slick sound of steel and the humming of the bustle in the kitchen.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to be free."

Hazel chanced a glance to the side, watching Maedhros as his eyes moved from Aragorn to the window. She knew he was listening. 

"Blackbird fly, blackbird fly  
Into the light of a dark black night."

Hazel closed her eyes as her fingers followed the well worn pattern.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise."

Maglor placed a warm hand on her shoulder and smiled as she ended her song. She then relinquished her seat at the piano bench and encouraged him to play. She had promised him piano lessons in return for his harp lessons, but really he had already practically master the piano whilst she was barely passible at the harp. Maglor had quite easily adapted several of his songs to the piano and began to happily play lullaby, providing a soothing background to everyone's work. 

Hazel looked around the room, glad to see everyone finally relaxed. As happy as she was to see that, she couldn't help the slight anxiousness that crept up her spine. Her poor introvert heart was taking quite a beating being constantly surrounded on all sides. The cabin was big, but not quite thirteen people, twelve of whom needed to be constantly reminded to not break the appliance, big. Thus, she found herself grabbing her coat from the hall closet and slipping out the back door. She walked for a while in the dark, unafraid and sure footed as she traversed a familiar path. 

Her boots crunched through the snow and the moonlight bathed the woods in a pale luminescence. After about half an hour of walking, she came to the clearing that she was looking for. It was a hidden spot that was all hers, her brothers and cousins having never found it. At the edge of the clearing was an old tree stump, the great pine that it once held up had broken at an odd angle leaving what looked like a massive, high-backed chair. Hazel brushed aside the snow that had piled onto it and sat, looking up at the stars.

It was her favorite place to go to and hide from the world. In the distance, above the tree tops she could see the sheer cliffs that she had never been allowed near as a child. On perfect nights like this one, when the sky was devoid of clouds and the air was crisp and clear, she could hear the singing of the deep caves; the voice of the ghost who haunted her family's land.

A twig snapped, probably quite deliberately, underfoot. Hazel turned to the sound and saw the pale form of Maedhros step out into the clearing. His milky skin and bright eyes glowed in the moonlight whilst his hair was like fire in the darkness. Hazel was grateful that he bothered to make noise at his approach as she wasn't certain if her heart could take being startled by the elf in the middle of the woods. 

Said elf moved silently once more, making his way to the fallen log next to Hazel's tree stump. Hazel's eyes went back to the skyline and the elf followed suit. After a while, Maedhros spoke. 

"There is more to that man isn't there?" Meadhros, surprisingly softly and calmly, said to Hazel. 

"I... I don't know what you-" while Hazel knew exact who Maedhros was referring to, lying had never been her strong suit and Maehros had certainly been decieved by far more skilled than Hazel. 

"I recognize the ring he wears... It belongs, or I suppose belonged, to my cousin Finrod."

There was a beat of silence.

"He didn't steal any of the items."

"He has Eldar blood in his veins... doesn't he?" He looked at Hazel who opened her mouth, another lie on her tongue before he continued. "His eyes are old and Noldor grey. He his taller than a normal man. I see it in him."

"He comes from a unique lineage. I'm sorry, but you know that I can't tell you who he comes from. But... I promise you, he's not your enemy."

"It is still theft if he plucked it from a cold corpse," there was a dangerous edge to Maedhros' voice. 

"I can promise you also that that's not the case."

Maedhros seemed to consider her words for a moment before he nodded his head. 

"I will trust you, Hazel. But I would advise that you speak to him about not wearing that ring so openly. There was no love between my cousin Finrod and my father, but Maglor was always close to Finrod with the two of them sharing a love of music and song." He looked off slightly into the distance as he spoke. "That ring was very valuable to our cousin and there are few reasons why he would give it up willingly. I cannot say what Maglor will do if he suspects that the man or his house had some part in Finrod's doom."

Hazel nodded in understanding.

It was getting late and the chill was beginning to seep into Hazel's bones. She was just about ready to stand and leave when one last thing slipped out of Maedhros' lips. 

"Thank you," the words came out as something close to a whisper. Then, as mysteriously as he appeared, the Feanorian vanished into the woods. Hazel waited several more minutes before standing and heading back to the cabin. 

That night, when Aragorn slipped outside to fetch more wood, Hazel followed and the next day, the ring was absent from his finger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He he... fluff and angst. My favorite. 
> 
> The song is Blackbird by the Beatles. 
> 
> And yes, I've decided that this fic is going to contain song lyrics because I just love the idea of Hazel playing for her houseguests and this is my fluffy fic so I get to do what I want!


	18. Chapter 18

Hazel watched the elves gaze at her globe in amazement. Apparently, to their knowledge Middle Earth was flat. She pushed forward and traced her finger along the globe, showing them where she lived and where they were. Maglor reached forward and traced his own finger along in amazement. Maedhros and Glorfindel seemed equally enthralled whilst the others were quickly loosing interest. It made sense of course, those three had actually traversed the sea, sailing from Valinor to Middle Earth. Eventually though, Hazel grew tired of trying to explain the multitude of countries on the map and turned to Gandalf. 

"So... what's the verdict?" Hazel voiced the question that everyone in the room was thinking. 

Gandalf, Glorfindel, and Aragorn had spent nearly the entire previous day pouring over the maps that Hazel had brought down for them and Gandalf seemed to have spent most of the night sitting in the old recliner just thinking. He had to have some sort of an answer prepared. 

"Well..." Gandalf began, chewing on his pipe for Hazel refused to let him smoke it inside. "I've seen this kind of magic before, long ago in Valinor. Actually," he raised one bushy eyebrow towards the Feanorians who always seemed to be near each other. "This type of magic was a specialty of Feanor."

"Of course."

"Legolas," Aragorn's tone was one of warning as she shot a glare at the passive aggressive elf. 

"A rather brilliant but dangerous experiment that Feanor tried near of the Years of the Trees," Gandalf continued unperturbed. "His goal was to create a form of instantaneous transportation."

"He wanted to teleport?" Hazel deadpanned. 

"An interesting term... but I suppose fitting," Gandalf went on. "As I was saying, his goal was to create a spell or object that would allow a being to latch onto the energy of another and thus be drawn, no matter the distance, to them. Then, at a reversal, they would be thrown back to where they came from. He hoped to be able to use this for his family and close acquaintances."

"He was trying to visit mother," Maglor spoke in barely a whisper, but it was enough to draw a silence in the room. 

Feanor's wife, Nerdanel, never traveled with him and his sons across the sea. In fact, the last he ever saw of his wife was when he and his sons swore their oath and committed the First Kinslaying. He sailed to Middle Earth where he was killed. According to Tolkien, he wouldn't ever be reembodied in Valinor, instead, only coming back into being at the end of the world. 

Gandalf seemed to decide that the best response to the silence was to push through it. 

"Yes well... either way... it was a very powerful but very uncontrolled attempt to harness powers that are not meant for the hands of the Children of Iluvatar. He was commanded to stop, but of course he disobeyed and his attempts to harness the power that he stole from Nessa the Dancer, one of the Valar-"

"He stole from one of the Valar!" Sam, who was quite enamored by elves and thus had been pestering Glorfindel, for stories. "But... aren't they..."

"Incredibly powerful," Glorfindel filled in with a raised eyebrow. 

Surprisingly, it was Maedhros who let out a bark of laughter so sudden and sharp that Hazel noticed a few hands reach for their weapons. Maedhros did many things, but _laugh,_ had never seemed to be on the list. 

"Melkor, the greatest of the Valar, was renamed into Morgoth by our father," he crossed his arms, releasing another snort of laughter. "Our father once slammed the door in Morgoth's face. Stealing from one of the lesser Valar? That would be considered tame. "

"As I was saying," Gandalf appeared significantly annoyed by the various interruptions and also not too pleased about Maedhros' comment on a "lesser Valar," but he continued nonetheless. "Whatever he was forging backfired and sent a wave of energy rippling all the way from Middle Earth to Valinor. Nothing direct happened, but there were concerns that some of the residual magic would... well... stick around so to speak."

"So this magic created by an elf ages ago is the reason why we're all stuck in a world where none of my kin exist?!" Gimli growled out. 

"I believe so," Gandalf was surprisingly blasé about the whole affair. "It seems that Glorfindel was drawn here as he is a distant relative of the Feanorians... and then I suppose Aragorn's sword being crafted by Feanor and wielded by Maedhros drew us here as well."

"And how did Maedhros and Maglor get here in the first place?" Hazel asked. 

"That remains... uncertain."

"You don't know."

"I cannot say at this time. What's important though," Gandalf was quickly changing the subject and Hazel couldn't help but to allow a small chuckle to escape. "Is that I know a way to reverse the effects. But," he added when he noticed several members of the Fellowship brightening. "It will take some time. The stars in this land are different and their placement is essential."

"One of my brothers loves astronomy. I'm sure I'll be able to find some star charts," Hazel said as she she walked away. The crowd that had formed to listen to Gandalf's revelations was already breaking apart as it became apparent that there would be no more interesting reveals.

For a moment, one lovely, ordinary, simple moment... Hazel actually believed that she would get some sort of a break. There was a clear path towards a potential solution for the myriad of Middle Earth inhabitants currently living with Hazel and no-one seemed to be actively attempting murder. Maybe Hazel would have a chance to read a book or just sit down for five seconds without anxiety. But of course, three of the Hobbits decided to shuffle over to the pantry where they stared for several moments before Pippin decided to comment very loudly. 

"What are we going to do about elevenses?!"

Hazel audibly groaned and walked over to the pantry, staring at the surprisingly empty shelves over the heads of the Hobbits. She knew that there was still a decent amount of venison left, but it wouldn't last for long at the rate they were going. It was unavoidable now... she was going to have to go shopping.

When she turned around and announced this to the house, there was an awkward moment of silence. Luckily, the men and elves managed to completely clear the snow from the driveway the day before and thus she would be able to finally drive into town. Luckily, there was a bulk shop that was decently cheap because they sold food by literal bushels. 

"I shall accompany you to market," Glorfindel stated, standing and placing one hand on his sword pommel. 

"Perhaps I should-" Maglor butted in and soon, literally everyone aside from Gandalf was standing and demanding to accompany Hazel. 

She sat on the couch and watched the squabbling for probably longer than responsible, but it was in that moment that she realized that she had somehow become the babysitter for a creche of overgrown, territorial, sword-wielding toddlers. Eventually, the noise level increased enough so that she stood up and demanded silence. 

"Alright!" The room grew quiet and all eyes, except Gandalf who had his eyes closed and his head tilted back, were on her. "I am perfectly capable of going to the market by myself and I can promise that there is a zero chance of me being accosted by orcs on my way."

"There are many dangers-"

"You cannot be certain-"

"You never know-"

"Not only orcs-"

"Alright," she shouted, thoroughly exasperated. "How about this... I'll take no more than two people with me... but they absolutely have to follow my rules, no exceptions." Everyone nodded their heads at that and Hazel figured that she would be able to prevent any of them from actually wanting to go with enough... persuasion. "Well... for starters, as I've mentioned before... only men exist in this world so whoever comes has to be able to pass as a man."

At that, all four Hobbits and Gimli, after a bit of grumbling, sat back down. There was no way anyone was going to assume that they were humans. 

"I believe-" Maedhros began, but Hazel cut him off. 

"Umm... sorry Maedhros... but you definitely can't pass as a normal man."

"I will cover my ears-"

"Buddy," she resisted the urge to laugh at the idea of Maedhros Feanorian in a beanie. "You're seven foot something, you have flaming red hair, and your eyes literally glow... actually," now that she was thinking about it... "I don't think any of the Calaquendi can pass for men," her eyes scanned Maedhros, Maglor, and Glorfindel who all had glowing eyes. Said elves didn't seem to agree with her assessment, but eventually sat down as well. 

_Then there were three..._

"Aragorn, I'll be requiring your assistance with the star charts," Gandalf, who still had his eyes closed in feigned slumber, said. Aragorn sat down. 

"It appears that we shall be accompanying you then," Boromir smiled triumphantly. 

"You still have to follow my rules..." oh she really didn't like this. "That means both of you," she gestured to Boromir and Legolas, "will have to change into normal clothes."

They nodded in agreement so Hazel went and raided the closets. In the end, she was grateful that her uncle was as broad as Boromir and one of her brothers happened to be nearly as slim as Legolas. Said elf made a slight face when she handed him the clothes, but he obligingly went into the bathroom to change.

By this point in time, the entire affair had become something of a spectacle and thus everyone in the living room was eagerly waiting for the man and elf to finish changing and exit. When they did, Hazel was... admittedly impressed. Legolas was in skinny jeans, a turtleneck, and had a beanie slung low to cover his ears whilst Boromir was in a pair of jeans and a dark blue flannel. He had gathered his hair back into a leather tie and honestly looked like a pretty believable lumberjack. There were certainly a good number of raised eyebrows in the room. 

"Also..." Hazel had to bring up a point that she knew would be a problem. "This is the 21st century so... no weapons on the shopping trip."

"My Lady Hazel-"

The outcry was immediate, expected, and rather annoying. She waited for the whining to die down before she crossed her eyes, glaring at them firmly. 

"That's a firm rule. I'm not explaining your presence to the police when they arrest you for attacking a speaker at a drive-through."

There was a good amount of grumbling, but reluctantly, both Legolas and Boromir removed a few blades from under their clothes. Hazel waited, tapping her foot and glaring at them with that "I don't believe your bs look' that she inherited from her father.

"There," there was a hint of bitterness in Boromir's tone. "We are now weaponless."

"All of them," Hazel wasn't born yesterday. She didn't believe them for a second. 

Reluctantly, Legolas removed another blade that he had somehow had stashed under the skin-tight clinging of his jeans and Boromir pulled one out from under his shirt. Hazel still stood her ground, tapping her foot. 

"Hazel, we have-"

"I said all of them," she cut Legolas off. "If you don't, then I'll have Maedhros pat you down to search for weapons."

They all saw the gleam in Maedhros' eye at that threat and finally, Legolas and Boromir divulged themselves of the last of their weapons. They looked at the pile longingly before following Hazel to the door and grabbing coats from the rack. Hazel had a very bad feeling about this, but she was already in too deep anyway. 

"Alright," she looked over at everyone who was gathered in the living room. She considered who to leave in charge for a moment. Gandalf was the seemingly obvious choice, but he tended to have a few too many screws loose in Hazel's humble opinion. If she left Aragorn in charge that would piss of Maedhros so... "Maglor's in charge," there were several protests, but she ignored them. "No one destroy anything, no one kill anyone, and do _NOT_ burn the place down while we're gone. If I come back to _any_ dead bodies, then everyone is sleeping outside in the snow."

With that last threat, they were off. 

It was at that moment as well that Hazel came to a sudden realization, finally understanding how her parents felt the first time they left her and her brothers home alone. In the end, her parents regretted their decision when they learned that in their absence, Hazel and her brothers managed to beak the railing not the staircase and destroy three of the mattresses in the house... she tried not to imagine the kind of damage that her current guests were capable of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Glorfindel being distantly related is technically possible cause he was a lord of their cousin Turgon. Most kings were related in some way to their lords so... I take it as close enough.


	19. Chapter 19

"So this... horseless carriage is to transport us to your market?" Boromir was glaring at her car with suspicion. 

"Yes," Hazel opened the doors and Boromir took the front seat, Legolas the back. She then had to buckle them in and explain that yes, they did have to wear the seat belts the entire time. She then slid into the drivers' seat and turned to look at her passengers. "Okay, so I'm going to turn the key, and the car is gonna rumble and some lights are going to turn on. I _promise_ that it's all supposed to happen. Everything is fine, nothing is going to explode okay?"

Both of her passengers nodded and she turned the ignition on. Predictably, both men immediately grasped for the handles, holding on for dear life. 

"Sweet Elbereth," Legolas whispered under his breath. 

"Okay, we're going to move now... and I'll be going slow on the mountain roads but it's eventually gonna be pretty fast compared to horses so... just relax."

She got a few shaky nods in response and off then went. It was a pretty long drive to town so she spent the first fifteen minutes or so in silence to allowed her passengers to adjust to the moving vehicle. Boromir was handling it... surprisingly well. He had a bit of a face for a while but eventually he seemed to accept it. Legolas on the other hand... well his face was pinched as if he was strapped to the roof of a nascar speeder. The roads were winding and Hazel took them slowly to avoid slipping on any ice. At one point she became concerned that some of her passengers would get carsick, but they both managed well enough.

Eventually, they had to discuss their game plan for the shopping trip. 

"So..." Hazel began, drawing the eyes of both Boromir and Legolas from the rapidly passing woods out the window. "As I've mentioned before, you guys are the names of two pretty famous characters from books and your names are definitely not common modern names. Because of that, while we're out Legolas will be... Liam and Boromir will be... Brian."

They parroted their names back, allowing the unfamiliar addresses to roll off their tongues. 

"How many Men should we expect to be present?" Legolas- or _Liam_ for the next few hours, asked. 

"Hard to say... but it's the middle of the day on a weekday so I wouldn't expect too many. Speaking of which... stay close to me and please just try to avoid conversation if at all possible. If you absolutely have to... just say that you're visiting me from out of town."

"Understood," Boromir nodded his head, his tone as serious as if he were receiving battle orders. 

The rest of the car ride was spent with Hazel coaching them on things to expect. 

"Yes, the store will be lit by the "heatless fire," no- they aren't evil."

"Ya, there's a lot of food from all over. I got a shopping list from Sam and I added a few things."

"Yes the town is safe- no there aren't any orcs."

"NOTHING you see has been made by a servant of the enemy."

"Boromir, I swear if you break one thing-"

"LEGOLAS IF YOU UNBUCKLE YOUR SEATBELT ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR I WILL STOP THIS CAR!"

 _"Please..._ just don't talk to anyone- pretend you're mute for all I care."

"Alright... we're here," Hazel had answered what felt like a thousand questions and unleashed a tirade of something close to two thousand rules and threats over conduct.

She hopped out of the car and began getting her passengers out. Hazel had intentionally parked along the side of the market, as far away from the view of others as possible as she didn't want anyone to witness her showing two grown men how seatbelts and a car door worked. Due to the large number of distractions she had to grab both men by their sleeves several times as they made their way to the carts, but she got Boromir to push cart so that was nice. 

They hit their first hurdle when the automatic doors opened and Boromir's hand flew to his belt where he would usually carry his sword. Hazel was already very grateful that she had thought to confiscate their weapons before heading out. 

After coaxing the pair in through the doors they were hit with a blast of warm air that Hazel was grateful for after the chilly breeze in the parking lot. It was a simple bulk supply store meant for the inhabitants of the surrounding areas to stock up on the basics. The set up was a warehouse, large metal scaffolding holding up pallets with bushels of standard supplies and various other needs. The harsh white light flickered in a few places as it seemed that they hadn't fully recovered from the previous storm, but the concrete floor was dry and the air was comfortable. 

Luckily, not too many shoppers perused the isles so they were able to move through at a mostly decent pace. The shock of the size and scale of the place seemed to keep Boromir and Legolas silent for a while which Hazel was grateful for. Of course... that didn't last long. 

Hazel was loading two large bags of apples into the cart when Legolas approached the bananas. He lifted one of the bundles of yellow fruit up and examined it carefully. His eyes were wide and Hazel was torn between giggling at how adorable he looked and cringing at how he also would've appeared slightly like and idiot gaping at a banana. 

"What... what is this?" He asked. Before Hazel could open her mouth to explain, Boromir called her attention. 

"Hazel, what are these strange items?" She turned to the man and saw him holding a bag of avocados. 

Deciding that she wasn't really ready to explain the tropics to the Middle Earth dwellers she decided to just toss them into the cart and promise to explain later. After getting a fair number of fruits and vegetables they then moved on from the produce isles to the dry goods where she had been strictly instructed to stock up on nuts and seeds along with her usual order as as apparently her cabin was stocked with a criminally low supply of these "essentials."

"Flour, sugar, oats, cornmeal," Hazel crossed off items as she had Boromir and Legolas do the heavy lifting, tossing all the items into the cart. It was actually quite impressive how effective they were. Now, Hazel wasn't exactly scrawny, but lifting that many bushels and lining them up in the cart was usually a bit tiring. Legolas and Boromir however seemed to move all the food with ease, event tossing the packages at each other as if they were filled with feathers. 

She had spotted two people who owned the local auto shop and she deftly steered her little crew away from them as said pair knew her family well. If they spotted Hazel with her strange companions they would absolutely try to start a conversation and would doubtless be curious about Legolas and Boromir. 

"Alright..." Hazel was muttering to herself but both her companions seemed to be too fascinated by the automatic lights that turned on when they opened the freezer doors to notice. "So now I need oil... damnit," the bottom and second pallets were empty. She could see the bottles of oil stacked on the top rack of pallets, about twenty five feet off the ground. "Ugh... now I have to find one of the employees with a forklift."

She shook her head making a mental note to go back for the oil as she moved onto grabbing potatoes and onions. She was halfway down the isle when Boromir coughed for the third time and she turned around a bit irritated. 

"If there's something you want to say-" he words were cut off when she noticed Legolas was missing. "Where-"

"He's-" Boromir jerked his head back and Hazel followed his directions until she saw him _CLIMBING THE FRIKIN WAREHOUSE SHELVES LIKE A MONKEY UNTIL HE WAS TOUCHING THE CELING_

"How many bottles would you like?" He called towards her, voice and face the picture of absolute innocence. 

"LEGO- _Liam,_ " she hissed at a volume that she knew he could hear with his elvish ears. _"Get the fu- get down here right now."_

"Don't worry, I won't fall. How many though?"

Hazel looked to Boromir her hands on her head in frustration. He didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with the situation however and just shrugged easily. _What do you want me to do? He's an elf,_ she could practically hear the words. 

"Just... just grab two bottles and come down," she whispered. 

Legolas nodded, grabbed the two bottle, and then without warming lept the entire twenty five feet to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. He smiled cheerfully and placed the two bottles in her cart. Hazel took a deep, calming breath and turned, quickly walking. She just hoped that whoever was on checkout wouldn't recall that the only cooking oil they had in the store was too high up for anyone to reach. 

She finished off the trip with a ton of eggs and a few cans of powdered milk because there was absolutely no way she would be repeating another shopping trip for the duration of her houseguests' stay. When they got to the checkout counter, Hazel had to physically restrain Boromir from attacking the stupid scanning gun as he forgot about Hazel's lecture on "no objects making strange noises are evil" and flipped out when he heard it beeping. 

They somehow made it out of the store without any broken objects or any unnecessary property destruction so Hazel decided that that counted as a win. She unlocked the car and sent both Boromir and Legolas to load up their purchases while she made a quick call to her family to measure them that everything was okay. The land line still hadn't been repaired after the snow so this was her first chance to call her family. They caught up for a little while and Hazel might have slipped in the tiniest of white lies that a bear ransacked their cellar so that's absolutely the reason why their food stores were low. 

When Hazel finished her call she ordered the two boys into the car while she returned the shopping cart around the corner. Just as she pushed it into place, two hands closed around her eyes from behind. Hazel released a short shriek and pulled away, but froze when she heard a familiar deep laugh. 

"Tommy?!" She turned around and sure enough, Thomas Blake from down the path was laughing his ass off. "That's not funny you idiot," she playfully shoved him. 

"Aww, come on Hazel... that was pretty hilarious," he was still laughing, his brown eyes crinkled in mirth. 

Hazel knew Tommy rather well. They had spent a good portion of their summers playing together when they were younger as they were close in age and there weren't many families with kids near the cabin. Tommy came from a long line of forestry workers, his father and mother both being in the service. He had followed in their footsteps. 

"God, how long as it been?" Hazel asked when they both finished their laughter.

"I haven't seen you since I joined the service and you ran off to college."

"Ran off," she scoffed. "You make it sound like I decided to become a bohemian traveller. I went to university."

"Eh, at least a bohemian is more interesting than mixing little test tubes together until something blows up."

"I'd say chemistry is far more fascinating than trudging through the mud chasing false bear sightings every day." Hazel laughed.

It was a common jibe between the two of them. While they had spent their summers rough and wild in the Rockies, they had very different lifestyles. Hazel always went home to her nice suburb where she pestered her dad with endless science inquiries whilst Tommy lived and breathed the mountain air. 

She ran an appraising eye over her old friend. It had indeed been several years since they last saw each other and he had changed quite a bit. Whatever academy he had been put through as a Forestry recruit had caused his previously lankish frame to fill out. His shoulders looked broader, his arms more defined, and the baby fat had finally melted off of his face. Hazel had almost forgotten about how she missed seeing him as they had mostly exchanged letters over the past few years. 

"Well... I'd say some mud is better than dealing with city-folk all day." He smirked. 

"City-folk?" Hazel gave him another shove. "I'll have you know that _I_ am a city-folk."

"How do you know that I wasn't talking about you?" He raised his eyes brows teasingly, prompting another shove from Hazel which he happily returned. 

Then, out of nowhere, there was a blur of movement and Hazel was being shoved behind a stocky frame. She blinked twice before she realized that it was a very angry Boromir standing in front of her, glaring at Tommy as if he had turned into an orc. 

"How dare you lay hands on a woman," he growled. "Count yourself lucky for if I had my sword with me I would rend you in twain."

"Who the fuck are you man?" Tommy's earlier mirth was gone and replied by a cold and somewhat confused edge. 

"Brian," Hazel hissed, shoving him to the side. "I'm fine... he's an old friend." This was becoming exactly what Hazel feared would happen. 

"Hazel... who?"

"Brian's an exchange student from England," she began spinning the first lie that she could think of. "He's a... fellow chem major but he minors in acting and sometimes he likes to be an _idiot_ and gets all 'method acting' which is what he's doing right now."

At that point, both men appeared confused and Hazel not so subtly suggested to Boromir that he go back to the car while she sorted out the mess that he just created. Of course, he remained silently standing behind Hazel until she physically shoved him. He then walked off stiffly, still casting untrusting glances back at Tommy. 

"So he's a- friend?" Tommy asked once he was gone. 

"Uh... sorta. You remember Riley? I mentioned her a few times in my letters." Okay so maybe this lie was going a bit far but she had to come up with something. 

"Ya."

"Well she and Brian are really good friends and he got this role as some mountaineering man in some play that's supposed to be a big deal... but problem is the dude grew up in the city and has never been to real mountains in his life so she kinda begged me to take him up here for a little while to show him what it's like in the 'real mountains' as apparently he needs the experience to play the role with 'authenticity.'"

"And he nearly bit my head off because?"

"It's uh, called method acting." She hesitated a moment before figuring that she might as well continue. "Basically he stays 'in character' so he can... I actually don't really know how it works but it's supposed to help him with the character he's playing."

Tommy was silent for a moment before he shook his head. 

"And you wonder why I think city-folk are strange."

"Hey. He's British city-folk. They're a whole different breed of strange."

"Fair enough," he muttered before they offered their goodbyes. 

Tommy reminded Hazel that she was always welcome to stop by his cabin and they parted ways, Hazel's nerves on end but the time she reached the car to be greeted by a very concerned Legolas and Boromir. 

She was a tad bit pissed off at both of them so she wordlessly climbed into the car and started the drive home. She waited until they had been on the road for close to twenty mites before she spoke. 

"Boromir-" she started, but was cut off. 

"My apologies, Hazel," he said sincerely. "I had no intentions of causing trouble... I was merely... concerned. I-"

"You know what, just drop it."

The rest of the car ride was deathly silent. 

They finally pulled up to the cabin and Hazel hopped out of the car, opening the front door. The entire trip had taken close to four hours and she didn't think that much could've happened while she was gone. That was of course, until she opened the door. 

What she saw was Gimli on his back, all four Hobbits piled on top of him restraining the screaming dwarf, Aragorn tending to what looked like a burn on Glorfindel's shoulder, and Maglor speaking rapidly in Quenya to a furious Maedhors who appeared to have a lump the size of a goose egg on his forehead. Of course, Gandalf was sitting in his armchair with a smirk on his face as if everything was absolutely hilarious. Even with three elves in the room it took a moment for anyone to realize that Hazel had entered. When they did notice, they all froze in place.

"I-" Maglor opened his mouth. Hazel wasn't sure if it was for the sake of an explanation or excuse, but she held up her hand to stop him. 

"Any permanent damages?"

"...No?"

"I'll be in my room. Help the other idiots unload the car."

And with that, Hazel walked up the stairs, not looking back at the multitude of arguments in a plethora of languages that broke out behind her. 

She needed a nap. 


	20. Chapter 20

A few days after the shopping trip and incidents which followed, the household fell back into something of a rhythm. Of course, there were still issued with certain houseguests trying to murder each other and a few _very_ severe misunderstandings regarding modern technology... but overall things calmed down. On one particular morning, Hazel managed to convince Glorfindel to leave her alone for a few moments by sending him to supervise the Hobbits in the kitchen. Whilst she trusted Sam and Frodo well enough... Pippin was a whole different story. 

It was still early in the morning, far too early to be awake but Pippin dropping what Hazel was reasonably certain to be all the pots and pans in the kitchen on the floor, Hazel was well awake. She pulled on her heavy jacket and boots, shuffling out the door and towards her favorite spot to sit. She was actually quite surprised when she arrived and found someone else on that tree stump that she had claimed as her own. 

"My apologies," Aragorn stood and bowed slightly. "It seems that I've stolen your chosen place of solitude."

"Don't worry about it," she waved at Aragorn who was already moving to leave. "I'm trying to escape from the chaos in the kitchen. You're more than welcome to share my secret spot."

The corner of Aragorn's lips quirked slightly and he sat down, scooting over to allow Hazel space to sit. 

"It's peaceful here... I can see why you enjoy it," he said. 

Hazel smiled and nodded in agreement. The sun as just beginning to rise as it chased away the night's chill. Bright white snow reflected the orange rays as the great pines that coated he landscape welcomed the warmth. The crickets were going to sleep as other creatures crawled forth from their burrows to welcome a new day. It was indeed peaceful. 

"So... what's troubling you?" She asked in as casual of a tone as she could imagine. Her eyes didn't leave the horizon as she waited on an answer. 

"Why would you suppose that something's troubling me?"

"That's why I always come out here... it's a good spot to contemplate."

Aragorn made a noncommittal hum, but Hazel was patient. She kept waiting and eventually, Aragorn spoke. 

"It is strange... to meet Maedhros and Maglor Feanorian in this manner... when they are so old yet so young." He too, kept his eyes on the horizon as he spoke, watching the sun slowly creep its way up into the sky. 

"I know it's hard for Legolas and Glorfindel to accept... but I'm sure it's more complicated for you."

"Indeed," he released a huff of a laugh. 

"Did... how did you-" Hazel wasn't sure how to ask the question, but Aragorn seemed to know what she was asking. 

"Lord Elrond rarely spoke of them... when he did it was usually Maglor when the winter was deep, the night fires were burning low, and wine flowed heavily. He was always fond... but mournful. He never forgot about what they did, nor did he entirely forgive them for the destruction of his family. But... he loved Maglor all the same. As for how I learned their whole story..." Aragorn paused, head turning to the side as he stared off into the woods. "Lord Erestor... Lord Elrond's head advisor and my tutor in my youth once belonged to the House of Feanor... he was there and shed blood in all three Kinslayings and he regrets and hates them with vitriol. He has not forgotten them and always ensures that no one does."

Hazel nodded her head in understanding. She knew of Erestor, the Chief Counselor of Imladris. She had never heard such a backstory for him though. She knew that he was likely Noldor, that he was pretty old to be Elrond's Chief Counselor, and that he was very cautious. He didn't quite support the idea of the Fellowship and thought it to be folly. Instead, he wanted it sent to Tom Bombadil for safekeeping. It made sense now... why he was so wary of sending a party out to bear the One. He had once followed ardent heroes in a quest for a magical artifact and lived through the consequences of that. Why should he trust an even more tempting archaism in such a long trek across Middle Earth. 

"And what of you?" He asked, a slight quirk in his lips. "What is it that brings you here to contemplate?"

"Oh nothing," Hazel tried to feign casualty. "I'm just escaping the mess of the kitchen."

"We are not all fated to make it... are we?" Aragorn asked eventually. 

"I- uh," Hazel felt a bubbling of panic. "Erm... I don't know where you got that idea-"

"You have a look in your eyes... it's the same look that I saw in Lord Elrond's when he told me to ride out to find my mother and I found her on the brink of death. I know that look well."

There was a beat of silence. 

"You know that I cannot tell you."

"I know," he released a resigned sigh. "I just... I worry that-"

"You're a good leader," she blurted out. She knew what would happen; how Gandalf then Boromir would fall, how Aragorn would blame his leadership for the breaking of the Fellowship, how he would despair. Yet, every choice that he made was the best that he could. "You have all the makings of a fine King."

"Thank you," he turned and looked at her for the first time since sh sat down. "Though I know that there are secrets which you must keep... your words bring me comfort."

Hazel smiled and they sat there for a little while longer until the sun had fully emerged from the horizon. They eventually meandered their way inside and were greeted by the delectable smell of breakfast... or what might have been second breakfast as they had watched the sunrise for quite some time. 

One by one, all members of the strange household were accounted for and they sat around the table like some bizarre family, conversing all around. Apparently Gandalf had made some progress on a reversal and they should all be able to get back to their appropriate locations and times within a few few weeks. He also apparently no longer needed Aragorn's help so the man was free to do as he wished. Hazel, at the urgings of the equally rowdy and chivalrous group, came up with a new list of chores to be completed around the cabin. Part of her realized that her family was going to be shocked when they next went up to the cabin and found heaps of firewood, the sheds all repaired, roofs re-shingled, fences replaced, and pathways cleared... but she figured that she'd come up with an excuse for that later. Heck, maybe she'd blame the ghost. That would at least satisfy her grandpa. 

After the dishes were cleared away she was approached by Legolas and Aragorn. Both had their bows in hand. 

"Might we go hunting for deer?" Legolas asked. 

When they went to the market Hazel hadn't purchased any meat as the extra supplies was already enough of a strain on her budget. She thought about it for a moment. Technically the permit for culling the local deer population was in her family's name and thus Legolas and Aragorn hunting was _technically_ illegal... but according to their last counts they still needed to cull close to six more bucks and maybe even a few does within a year or so and it wasn't like anyone was going to check exactly _who_ was doing the shooting. In the end, Hazel figured that they weren't even legally in the country... or in existence... so there really wasn't much harm in allowing them to go. 

"Sure," she shrugged. Then a though hit her and she rounded on Legolas, prodding his chest with a sharp poke. "There's a buck with a green ribbon tied around his neck. If you shoot him, I shoot you." She turned and prodded Aragorn as well who nodded in understanding. 

With that cleared up the pair left. Hazel looked around the cabin, trying to think of something else to do. 

"Miss Hazel," Sam, who still insisted on calling her 'Miss Hazel' walked up to her shyly. 

"Ya?"

"I was wondering," he looked around a little furtively and lowered his voice. "Well I was wondering if you had a stream or lake with trout around these parts. You see... Frodo's been a little blue lately and one of his favorite dishes is fried trout. I was thinking that I'd sure be nice to make some to cheer him up."

Hazel couldn't help but smile at the sincerity and concern plastered across Sam's face. 

"I think I have just the idea." She looked up at the cabin, announcing very loudly. "You know... I think the lake's frozen over pretty solid. Anyone ever been ice fishing before?"

"Ice fishing?!" Pippin sounded perhaps too excited.

"Yup... you drill a hole in the ice and fish from there."

"Really?" Merry asked. 

"Can we go?!!" Pippin was definitely too excited to go sit on top of the ice all day, but even Frodo was grinning at the idea so Hazel figured it was worth it. 

"Sure, I'll gather the supplied we need. Today is perfect weather for ice fishing."

The Hobbits all began to bustle about, grabbing their cloaks and shoving extra blankets into their little packs. Sam was quick to pack a picnic lunch... or maybe it was second breakfast. Hazel wasn't exactly counting. 

"I think I shall come too," Boromir said, standing up and walking over. "Just to keep an eye on the little ones."

Hazel nodded her head, busy going over the mental checklist of things she needed to bring. It was then that she noticed out of the corner of her eye how Glorfindel was worrying his bottom lip. It was quite obvious that he felt that he should also volunteer to go. After all, if someone fell through the ice than the chances of Boromir or Hazel being able to pull them out were slim... but there was no way ice fishing could be even close to pleasant for someone who had survived the trip across the Grinding Ice. 

"Maglor," Hazel called to the elf who was sitting by his brother, carefully oiling his harp. She smiled an overly chipper smile and spoke in a nearly sickeningly cheerful tone. "You'll come along as well."

"I will?" He asked, surprise evident in his brow as his brother, likely happy about getting out of such a deal, smirked. 

"Indeed. We need an obligatory elf to come and make sure no one dies."

Maglor briefly looked to his brother, but upon seeing the feral grin on his face he seemed to decide against it. 

"Very well," his voice was rather put off. "I shall come."

"Besides," Hazel continued to speak sweetly. "Maedhros is going to have to help Glorfindel repair the storage shed that was destroyed after the... incident from three weeks ago."

They both knew _exactly_ what Hazel was referring to and neither dared to raise objection.

"Ice fishing," Gimli muttered to himself shaking his head as he sharpened his axe by the fire. "No sense the lot of them. Who in their blazing minds would want to sit on the ice all day waiting for frozen fish to bite."

He continued grumbling to himself until Gandalf declared that he needed Gimli's help with the day's tasks.

The group made their way to the lake where Hazel immediately began setting up the drill whilst the Hobbits created a surprisingly cozy seating area out of blankets and branches that they picked up along the way. Both Boromir and Maglor kept glancing at the ice suspiciously, but it was pretty thick so Hazel wasn't too worried. 

They eventually settled in and of course that was when the Hobbits immediately began unpacking the food and tucking away at the scones, tea, and pasties. The ice was like white crystal and the sun reflected glittering light off of the snow. Very faintly, they could hear the slight whistling of the wind rushing throng the high mountain caves and Hazel happily explained the phenomenon to the Hobbits who seemed eager for the story. 

As the day progressed, they caught a surprising number of fish which Boromir took charge of cleaning and de-scaling as they went. The Hobbits were a rather cheerful lot and it was nearly impossible to be somber in their presence as their stories got more and more animated the longer they sat there. It seemed that Hobbits were _very_ fond of their stories, especially those surrounding family. Hazel told a few about growing up with her two brothers and her various cousins. She had hundred of adventures around the cabin and every speck of the property had another story. They even ended up prodding Boromir to join in and tell tales of him and his younger brother Faramir in their youth. Apparently... the two of them had quite the habit of sneaking out of lessons. 

The Hobbits made for wonderful company and Hazel greatly appreciated having the chance to get to know them better. Merry and Pippin were both a riot, although it quickly became clear that Merry took the responsibility of looking out for Pippin, the youngest member of the group, very seriously. He had a big heart and loved his cousin dearly whilst Pippin, though he still thought of the quest as something of one big adventure, understood the severity of the situation. The youngest Hobbit hated being a burden and desperately wanted to prove himself. 

Sam Gamgee was a fascinating figure as well. He was the most soft spoken of the lot, a bit timid and shy in the presence of Maglor, but he always tried to include the elf in their conversations. He was fiercely loyal to Frodo and was certainly the most serious of the Hobbits. Meanwhile Frodo slowly opened up through their time. Once the conversation flowed he seemed to ease up and at Sam's urging, convinced himself to relax. He had quite the mischievous streak and some of his tales of mischief made Pippin's stories seem tame. 

Everything was going well until Pippin, during a particularly animated recounting of some uncle's seventieth birthday party, lept to his feet and slipped backwards, straight into the ice hole. Everyone lept to their feet but before they could act, the current of the lake water pulled him deeper and past the small fishing hole that they had drilled. 

"Pippin!" Boromir shouted, jumping up and running towards the hole.

But, Maglor was quicker. The elf grabbed Boromir around the waist and threw him backwards, away from the hole and into the safety of a snowdrift. The Feanorian then shed his sword belt and dove headfirst into the ice hole, slipping beneath the surface. 

The group watched in horror as they saw his dark form beneath the ice, moving as fluidly as if he were a fish. When Maglor dove deeper, they could no longer see him and Hazel swore that everyone's breath paused. For an impossibly long time... there was nothing. The ice was over a foot thick and was barely translucent. The water in the drilled hole was black as a starless night with barely a ripple. 

As the silence stretched on, Hazel found that her heart was thumping in her ears. That was all that she was aware of, the black emptiness of the hole and the thumping of her heart trying to break out of her body. 

**_Splash_ **

Finally, a head broke the surface of the little hole. Pippin's limp form was thrown out and Hazel and Boromir were instantly there to help haul Maglor out of the water. By the time the elf was back on solid ice Pippin was woken up and coughed out half a lake's worth of water. He was shivering so violently that Hazel though that his teeth would shatter. 

"I'll get them back to the cabin," Hazel said, scooping Pippin into her arms. "You guys can stay out here... I can't have everyone fussing about."

Boromir promised to keep an eye on the rest as Maglor silently followed Hazel back to the empty cabin. As soon as they got there, Hazel ordered Maglor to take a seat in front of the fire and change out of his wet clothes. She tossed him a few towels and a change of warm sweats and a flannel before taking Pippin upstairs to the shower. She ran a hot bath and deposited the shivering Hobbit under a stream of warm water. Eventually, his shivering slowed and he came back to full awareness. 

"I- I'm sorry-"

"It's fine... accidents happen," Hazel said with a sigh. In all honesty, she was just happy that everyone came out in one piece. If Maglor hadn't been there than Pippin almost certainly would have died. No one but an elf would have been able to pull off such a dangerous rescue beneath solid ice. "I'm gonna go check on Maglor... stay in the water until you're comfortable and then you can dry off, change, and join us."

Pippin nodded as Hazel left the bathroom. By the time she got downstairs Maglor was already changed and shivered slightly near the fireplace. Hazel went straight for the kitchen and fell back into her signature habit of brewing tea, brining a steaming hot mug to the elf crouched close to the flames. He had finished towel drying his hair and was futilely trying to comb through it with shaking fingers. 

Hazel sighed and sat down behind him. 

"Here," she offered, pushing his hands away. "Let me."

As he always did, he tensed for a moment but eventually relaxed as she combed her fingers through his hair, picking out the tangles. She then sectioned it off and began braiding it in the style that he always wore. As she did, she felt compelled to speak to fill the silence which suddenly seemed so strange after the usual cacophony of sound in the cabin. 

"That was incredibly brave of you," she offered. Maglor just shrugged. 

"It's what any would have done... Boromir nearly tried."

"Ya," they left the fact that if he had managed to jump in he would've almost certainly drowned unspoken. "You know... he was kinda a prick at first but I'm starting to become terribly fond of him."

"I can see where you're coming from... he has the bearing of an elder brother."

They fell into silence for a little while, Hazel slowly combing her fingers through her hair and weaving the multitude of tiny plaits that formed his usual style. Maglor's hair was soft as silk, baby fine and yet apparently incredibly strong. It had dried surprisingly quickly and felt smooth beneath her fingers. 

"You know... I almost drowned in much of the same way," Hazel recalled the story with a strange note of fondness, perhaps brought on by their earlier rehashing of memories. 

"You what?"

"I was... six if I recall correctly. It was during the winter and there had been a pretty nasty snow storm that lasted a whole week. By the time the weather cleared I was anxious to get out of the cabin and run around. All three of us kids were supposed to stay together but my brothers were in the process of building a fort that had a 'no girls allowed' rule so I decided that I wanted to explore on my own."

"That doesn't seem wise."

"I was six," Hazel shrugged. "Nothing I did was particularly wise... anyway. So I was wandering by myself, enjoying the sunshine and kicking up snow when I saw a rabbit. It had its winter coat on so it was just this bundle of pure white fluff and... well I..."

"You tried to chase it?" There was a scoff, but also a note of fondness in Maglor's tone. 

"I told you, I was six," Hazel tugged lightly on one of Maglor's ear tips in retaliation for his teasing. He inhaled sharply but Hazel paid it no mind as she continued her story. _"Anyway..._ I chased the rabbit straight onto the ice and apparently it hadn't frozen very thick so while the stupid bunny scampered across just fine... I sunk straight through the surface. I still remember those moments under the ice..." her tone softened a little bit, her hands growing still as the particular memory emerged. "It so so cold and I couldn't breath. I knew which was up... that was clear enough but... I wasn't strong enough to breath through the ice. I opened my eyes under the water and looked up at that hazy sheet above me and I kept hitting it... but it wouldn't break."

She couldn't have been under the ice for more than a minute, but in her young, panic filled mind, it had felt like hours. She remembered the way the traitorous ice that had so easily allowed her to slip down, felt so solid against her hands as she banged against it. Sunlight filtered through it, just enough for her to see the light, but not enough for her to see anything in the surface world above. In those moments, she really thought that she would die. 

"What happened?" Maglor's smooth voice pulled Hazel out of her haze. 

"I... I honestly don't know. One moment I was under water, the next there was snow beneath my hands and I was coughing up water and freezing. I must have found a weak spot in the ice but I was so panicked and oxygen deprived that I don't quite remember anything after plunging underwater."

"You were lucky."

"That's what my Dad said in between some swears that I still won't repeat," a half smile formed on Hazel's lips as she recalled the way her parents were equal part released and furious when they found her hacking up lake water and halfway to hypothermia. "My Dad was beside himself and my Mom... well I swore she was about to tear my brothers in half for allowing me to run off on my own... not that they could've stopped me if they had been there when I saw that bunny... I was a pretty stubborn kid."

"Oh I'm sure you were."

"Hey," she tugged on his ear again. "Watch your tone mister. My Grandpa seemed to think that the whole situation was hilarious- he though of anything that didn't result in a lost limb as hilarious, and my Grandma swore up and down that the Ghost dragged me out."

"Oh, so the Ghost sings from the mountaintop and pulls children out of the lake?"

"Yup... it also steals my Grandpa's tools and eats the pies that my Grandma sets on the counter to cool," Hazel chuckled. "Really it was my Grandma's fault that we kids used that excuse. If anything went wrong on the land then my Grandma blamed the Ghost so... we might've used it as an excuse a few times as kids."

Maglor laughed and Hazel finished his braids. By that time, he had stopped shivering and was back to a perfectly normal temperature... a feat really not fair but Hazel supposed that being an elf certainly had its advantages. Hazel left him to sip his tea as she went to check on Pippin who was still chilly, but feeling remarkably better in a steaming tub. 

She had just arrived back in the living room when a loud crash sounded from outside. She raced out the door, closely followed by Maglor. The pair ran around the perimeter of the cabin until they found where the sound originated from... an axe deeply embedded in one of the corner columns.

Hazel stared at the axe for a few seconds, her mind processing the fact that there was no way that it grew out of the wood, meaning _someone_ managed to get the steel blade over five inches deep into a solid wood beam. 

"GIMLI SON OF GLOIN!!! WOULD YOU LIKE TO EXPLAIN TO ME HOW HELPING GANDALF FIND A WAY BACK TO MIDDLE EARTH INVOLVED THROWING AN AXE AT MY HOME???!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to check in and say OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!
> 
> I honestly never expected for this story to be followed at all and I've been kinda overwhelmed by how many amazing comments I've gotten on this fluffy piece. I absolutely love hearing from readers and I've had so much fun reading everyone's reactions to this story. 
> 
> With that in mind... this story has now gone from pure fluff to having an actual overarching plot that I had previously vaguely formed out... but now it's official. There will be plenty more adventures to come as besides the other fic with the rules... there's going to be a sequel. 
> 
> Thanks, and I hope you continue to enjoy :)


	21. Chapter 21

"Two weeks!" Gandalf announced one morning without preamble. "Two weeks until the stars and moon will shine with enough light to fuel our return journey home."

"Everyone?" Hazel asked. 

"Yes. Assuming that Feanor's residual magic acts somewhat akin to how he originally intended... the portal should deposit us each back into our correct time and place as if no time had passed... so long as my calculations are correct."

"Wonderful... we're trusting Olorin's magic." Maedhros, very unhelpfully, was rolling his eyes. 

"I'll have you know, young Maitimo-"

"Remember that time when he tried to assist in father's forge?" Maedhros casually asked Maglor, as if he hadn't heard Gandalf's rather irritated rebuttal. 

"Ah yes," Maglor quirked an eyebrow, something of a smirk crossing his lips. "I do believe that he created an explosion large enough to burn down Tyelkormo's favorite tree."

"Poor tree was nothing but splinters."

_"Boom."_

_"Splat."_ Maedhros' smirk was positively feral and Hazel couldn't help but notice how the hobbits were shifting uneasily whilst Legolas' face seemed to have drained of most of its blood. 

"Really?" She released an exasperated huff. "Is this really necessary?"

"I'm merely reminding that Olorin has never been known for his skill in science," Maedhros' grin had too many teeth to be considered friendly. 

"Perhaps," Glorfindel stepped in. "We should have some faith in Mithrandir. His abilities are our best hope-"

"Ah yes," Maedhros snarled. "Relying on faith and magic of course. Tell me _Glorfindel,_ how well did that work for your precious hidden city?"

Glorfindel's easy smile faded instantly, fierce Noldor rage replacing his earlier calm. 

"We were betrayed to the Foe by a filthy traitor, someone a cowardly Kinslayer like you might understand."

"You may call me many things, _Balrog Slayer_ ," Maedhros spat the title like an insult. "But loyal to the Enemy I am not!"

"So says he who slaughtered hundreds over a few jewels and an oath you were too cowardly to turn down and too much of a failure to fulfill!" Glorfindel's hand was on the hilt of his sword, but Maedhros already had his drawn. 

"Bold of you to speak of failure when it was you who allowed an entire city to fall," Maglor had risen to his feet, his own hand on his blade. 

"Alright that's enough!" Hazel called out, stepping between the very pissed off elves. She could feel the large and solid form of Aragorn stepping cautiously behind her, protective intent practically radiating off of him. Hazel understood the gesture, but based on the number of hands straying to weapons she doubted that it would be any help. "Meadhros, Maglor, take a walk," she ordered the brothers who both looked ready to fight. "Glorfindel, other direction, take a walk."

On all the previous altercations when it had been Gimli and Legolas or Boromir and Maedhros going at each others' throats, she would assign someone else to monitor the parties in order to ensure that their walks remained separate and didn't reconvene to settle their dispute with more pointy objects. However, considering no one else in the cabin had much of a chance of dealing with one of the ancient elves, let alone all three, she decided to rely on hope that they wouldn't have a fourth kinslaying. 

Hazel was actually a bit surprised that Maglor had gotten involved. Maedhros had an uncanny ability to get under anyone, particularly Glorfindel's, skin and cause friction... but usually Maglor stayed out of such things. The younger Feanorian had been a bit more on edge recently and Hazel hadn't had the chance to question him as to what was causing his tension. 

Once the angry elves had left in opposite directions- for the moment, Hazel was left with the Fellowship lounging about her cabin in various states of uncertainty. She was quite certain that every single blade they carried had been sharpened to a razor's edge and every possible chore around that house had already been taken care of. The hobbits had canned enough goods to restock her entire storage and the pantry honestly looked like the shelves of a bakery because apparently Sam stress bakes.

Hazel understood the little outburst. Everyone was feeling cooped up and exhausted. Her family had gotten that way in certain winters past, when the storms were bad and everyone was forced to live on top of one another inside. Tempers tended to flare... it happened. But for her houseguests, it was even more complicated. Everyone bore hard burdens on their shoulders and there was the lingering uncertainty on if they would ever get home. They were lost, and though Hazel was certain none would admit it aloud, afraid. She needed to find something for them to do... something to cheer them up.

But then, and idea struck her. 

"Hey guys," she announced, voice bubbling with excitement. This was actually a pretty genius idea if she did say so herself. "It's December now... do you know what that means?"

"What?" Boromir asked, one eyebrow raised in a tone that already said _you're not as amusing as you think you are._

"It's time to decorate for Christmas!!!"

"Christmas?" Merry parroted back. "What's christmas?"

"Christmas is..." Hazel thought about it for a moment. "Well it's a holiday that we celebrate here. It's for... well everyone celebrates it for difference reasons. For some people it's religious, but for others it's just a great celebration of family and good cheer during the winter. We'll all be home before Christmas Day... but like 70% of the fun of Christmas is all the pre-celebration stuff like decoration and baking."

"Baking?" Sam perked up at the idea. 

"Alright," Aragorn sounded a little dubious, but he seemed willing to humor Hazel's antics. "How do we go about preparing for celebrations of Christmas?"

"Well..." and then proceed an explanation of Christmas trees which ended up evolving into a conversation of the origins of Christmas in Germanic Yule celebrations.

Gimli pointed out that the dwarves held a similar celebration in the winter times where they burned vast amounts of coal in something similar to a Yule log. Legolas then added that Christmas didn't seem all too different from the winter solstice celebration of the elves whilst the hobbits declared that they didn't have any particular winter celebrations... but hobbits never pass on an excuse for a party. 

Thus, everyone was very soon in the Christmas Spirit with the decision being made that they would cut down and decorate a tree, find a Yule log to burn, decorate the cabin, and host an early Christmas feast before they returned home. They had all been so eager to discuss this that they ended up spending most of the day planning celebrations with Legolas and Sam taking the lead on organization. Sam of course, was to be expected... but Legolas leading the party planning was certainly a surprise. Hazel made an off handed comment on it, but was responded with a light hand wave as the elf muttered something about often being involved in planning feasts and celebrations for his father... Hazel decided not to look into that too much. 

As night fell, the inhabitants of the cabin one by one trickled off to sleep with the agreement that they would seek out both a Yule log and Christmas tree the next morning. Hazel continuously suck furtive glances at the door, hoping that the elves would return... but it seemed that they were all determined to take a rather long walk. Hazel understood... she really did. Her parents used to use that trick on her and her brothers when tempers boiled over. Usually a few hours marching through the cold snow was enough to cool them off. The record for longest time spent out was probably Hazel who, after a particularly nasty argument where her older brother after he spilled his soda on one of her books, spent six hours traipsing through the snow before returning home with frozen toes and a thoroughly subdued temper. 

Apparently... immortal elves who barely felt the cold were immune to such mortal exhaustions. 

Luckily, when Hazel woke up the next morning and made her way downstairs she saw _everyone_ sitting at the dining room table tucking into a hearty breakfast. The hobbits seemed to be in the middle of a very animated explanation of Christmas to three thoroughly confused elves. Aragorn then butted in and corrected a few of the explanations as in- no, they weren't planning on chopping down a tree the size of a mountain to light on fire in the house. 

Thank goodness Aragorn caught that because Hazel hadn't consumed enough caffeine to properly worry about the hobbits essentially planning arson. 

In the end, it seemed that a full day and night of walking through the snow calmed the ancient elves enough to join the group on their search for the perfect Christmas tree and Yule log. Hazel did catch Glorfindel and Maglor shooting each other the occasional look... but they didn't seem to be ready to go for blows yet. After thoroughly bundling up, the entire cabin set out together in a long march through the woods in an effort to find their perfect tree. The fresh air and set task seemed to do wonders for improving moral as soon everyone was engaged in a rather enthusiastic rendition of Jingle Bells. Maglor did make a face when he first heard Gimli and Merry's rather off key singing... but he didn't voice any protests as soon the entire company joined in. 

It was then that Hazel learned that Gandalf, though being a powerful wizard skilled in many things... absolutely could NOT sing. 

Either way, the air was crisp, the snow was sparkling, and frankly the scenery of the mountains looked like a Hallmark card. Since several members of the Fellowship were mere mortals and susceptible to cold, they borrowed a fair number of coats and scarfs from the cabin's wardrobes. Thus, the party certainly cut a strange sight as it contained a quite varied number of heights as well as a strange blend of modern and midivil clothing. Gandalf ended up selecting a scarf that happened to be Hazel's Fourth Doctor scarf and she couldn't resist taking a picture of that one. 

Hazel determined that spirits were sufficiently risen when Pippin decided to take a running leap and launch himself onto Glorfindel's shoulders. The ancient warrior indulged his behavior and even Frodo cracked a smile as Pippin began to sing one of the multitude of Christmas carols that Hazel had managed to teach the group. 

" _Frosty the snowman_ ," Pippin lept up with each word, nearly colliding with Boromir several times. 

" _Was a jolly happy soul!_ " Frodo joined in the merriment and Hazel resigned herself to a fifth rendition of the same carol.

 _"With corncob eyes and a button nose!"_ Glorfindel, far too gleefully, joined into the song. His deep voice carried the lighthearted Christmas carol as he lept up, skipping in tune with the song. Hazel briefly pondered on how unfair it was the she was trudging through the snow while a man twice her size was lightly dancing atop the banks. Everyone recognized the tune and before long... they were all singing along. 

"That one!" Gimli's rough shout interrupted the second rendition of the song as he stopped dead in his tracks and pointed towards a tree up ahead. 

And in truth... he was right. The tree was an absolutely gorgeous fir tree, filled out wonderfully and shaped into a perfect cone. The needles were all a dark green and there didn't seem to be a single flaw in its shape. The tree was also the perfect height to fit in the middle of the cabin's living room. Of course, this meant that it was massive as the living room happened to have vaulted ceilings... but luckily there were four elves in the group so Hazel wouldn't have to be involved in lugging it back to the cabin. 

As tradition dictated though, every member of the household walked around the tree, inspecting it to determine if it was suitable for the annual Christmas tree. Only when it got a unanimous vote of approval would it be selected. It was soon agreed upon by everyone and Gimli stepped forward, a look of barely contained glee on his face. 

"Well laddies... and lass," he glanced over quickly at Hazel with his correction. "Allow me to show you all how dwarves get things done!"

He then hefted his axe over his shoulder and swung in a massive arc, wedging it firmly into the tree's trunk before pulling back and repeating. Boromir was quick to usher the hobbits back and into safety as Gimli continued to swing. Meanwhile Legolas was standing off to the side looking a little pale, Aragorn beside him obviously trying to comfort him. 

Hazel looked away, recalling how closely Wood Elves were tied to the trees and how much they usually did to avoid harming them. While Legolas might have been Sindarin as apposed to Silvan, he was still raised amount the Wood Elves and it was understandable that he would be a bit distressed by the events. In fact, Hazel was a bit surprised that he was going along with this plan at all. She supposed that it was like due to him understanding how much everyone needed a bit of cheer. 

Eventually, the massive tree was felled and Aragorn and Boromir assisted in tying it into a bundle for transport. Then, the task of moving the massive thing was given to the elves who all grabbed onto a rope and began hauling it back to the cabin. 

Hazel took the time to walk alongside Gimli, chatting with him about the dwarves' annual tradition of Mahal's Fires. 

"Every forge is lit, from the bottom to the top of the mountain, every forge, hearth, and stove is stoked as high as can be with coals." He spoke with a wistful dreamy look in his eyes. "It's a way to honor our creator, see. For a full week the forges are lit and every dwarf crafts their finest works, gifting them to those who they care for. We spend that week also remembering our fallen brothers and sisters, crafting small gifts which are lain amount the stone cairns..." He kicked his feet about for a little while. 

"That's really beautiful," Hazel could tell that this was far more personal than Gimli was used to getting. She also knew how much of an honor it was that he was sharing anything with her as the dwarves were known to be incredibly secretive about their customs and ways with strangers. 

"Aye... the mountains are hotter than an orc's- you know what I mean," he seemed to catch himself, but Hazel laughed nonetheless. 

"Ya... I know what you mean."

"And oh the feasts! Let me tell you the feasts are something that you wouldn't believe. Enough ale to swim in and food piled as high as even the eye of a pointy eared bastard can see!"

"We can still hear you, Master Dwarf," Maedhros' tone is surprisingly less bitter than Hazel expected... almost teasing. 

But, Gimli continued as if he hadn't heard the elf.

"Oh there's nothing quite like home..." a look of melancholy crossed his face. "I'll be missing Mahal's Fires this year... don't think I'll be home in time for it... I suppose me mum will go back to just giving gifts to me pa..."

"Next year," Hazel laid a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "There's always next year."

He looked up at her and smiled. In that moment, Hazel gained an understanding of Tolkien's dwarves. They were rough around the edges, prideful, brash... but fiercely loyal and good to the bone. She could see how much he loved his family and how much it pained him to be away from them. Hazel was at least assured that when her little adventure was over, she would still be driving back home to meet with her family for Christmas Day... it was an assurance that these heroes, off on their quest to save Middle Earth, didn't have. 

"Aye... always next year," he nodded along and their walk fell into a peaceful silence. 

Hazel wasn't quite ready to teach the group any more Christmas Carols as she already had Rocking Around The Christmas Tree stuck in her head. She also really really didn't need to hear Jingle Bells another time. 

When they arrived back at the cabin, everyone was quick to set about their tasks. The cabin was already bustling with activity as the crew tried to take apart the bindings on the tree. 

"I'm heading to the back shed to fetch our decorations," Hazel called out. 

Glorfindel was quick to volunteer to help her, practically skipping over to the door where he held it open, beaming. 

"After you my Lady," he gave an exaggerated bow and flourish. 

Hazel rolled her eyes and started the trek towards the shed with Glorfindel bouncing behind her like an over eager puppy. When they reached the she shed, Hazel took a few minutes to sort through the various boxes in an attempt to find the ones with the Christmas decorations. Glorfindel was happy to help with the lifting a moving, a feat that Hazel was glad to not have to perform. 

"Lets see... lights, ornaments, tinsel..." Hazel quietly checked off which ones she could find. 

"I must say, your celebrations have certainly put everyone into a much finer mood," Glorfindel chirped as he lightly tossed aside a bag of unmixed cement. Hazel chuckled. 

"I'm used to it... everyone can get a little stir crazy when stuck inside for so long. I'm assuming that's why you and Maglor have been particularly snippy?" Hazel raised an appraising eyebrow and was glad to see that Glorfindel had the decency to flush slightly. 

"Er... yes... sorry," he was biting his lower lip and Hazel had to resist the urge to laugh at how chastised the ancient warrior looked. "I was perhaps a bit... short."

"Just don't rise so easily to the bait," she replied with a snort, finally settling on which boxes to bring up. 

Glorfindel, being the annoyingly chivalrous type, shooed Hazel away from he stack of four boxes and lifted them all himself. Of course, this meant that he couldn't see where he was going and promptly knocked into a tree... but after that he seemed to get the hang of it and was ambling along just fine, not at all weighed down. 

"I will say... it's nice to see the hobbits in such a cheerful mood... especially young Frodo," Glorfindel chimed from behind the stack of boxes. 

"Ah yes, the _burden_ weighs heavily on him," without the Feanorians nearby, the pair were a bit more free to talk about their specific worried with the Fellowship. 

"But Master Boromir seems quite adept at caring for them though," Glorfindel added. Hazel resisted the urge to laugh as she looked over her shoulder and saw the stack of boxes following her sand talking. 

"I'll admit," she thought of the things she'd witnessed... how he nearly threw himself into the ice to save Pippin and how just that day, seemed to take it upon himself to keep the hobbits from being crushed by the falling trees. "He was a bit of a prick at first... but Boromir has grown on me."

"Indeed," Glorfindel's voice seemed a bit more somber. "Tis a shame really."

Hazel was about to agree when Glorfindel's words sunk in and she froze. Her stop in motion was so abrupt that Glorfindel didn't notice her and crashed straight into her back. They both went tumbling and quick as a flash, Glorfindel was already helping her up and apologizing for knocking her over... but his words were playing over and over in Hazel's mind. 

_No... he can't..._

"Glorfindel," she turned and looked him in the eyes, resisting the urge to look away from that fierce Noldor light in them. "What do you mean _tis a shame_? What do you know?"

Glorfindel suddenly looked very guilty and Hazel felt her heart stutter a bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really had fun making up the traditions for the dwarves. I was able to find surprisingly little about holidays celebrated by the different races in my research so I decided to fill in the gaps.


	22. SORRY *Not An Update*

Hi everyone, I'm really sorry and I hate doing this (because I know how it feels to get your hopes up about a new chapter), but this seemed the best way to inform everyone. 

I know that I've been rather absent on updating and responding to comments lately and I really want to apologize for that. Unfortunately, I've been going through some health problems (not Covid, my doc is thinking autoimmune) lately and they've resulted in me experiencing a lot of systemic pain and being very low on energy. Due to that, I'm finding it rather difficult to focus enough to write and to respond to all the amazing comments and questions that I've been getting. 

I would like to assert that I am NOT abandoning any of these works. Just sadly, my active presence on this site will likely be greatly decreased until I figure out how to better manage my symptoms. 

I would also like to make it clear that I do absolutely read each and every single comment that you guys leave on my stories. I love reading them and I truly appreciate the feedback and amazing support. Really, it's thanks to you guys that I keep updating these stories. I promise that once I'm feeling better I'll get back to responding to all the comments as I can't even express how much I love and appreciate this community. 

Overall, I wanted to apologize for going silent and for future slow updates and responses. Thank you so much to all my loyal readers, and I promise that I won't be disappearing forever. 

Thank you, and hopefully, you'll all be hearing from me again soon. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start this with a massive thank you to everyone for being so supportive and kind. I've read each and every single comment left on all my stories and they've really been helping me get through this. I do promise that I fully intend to reply to all the comments as soon as I'm feeing up for it. Unfortunately, I don't have much of an update on me besides that I'm hanging in there. 
> 
> This chapter was mostly finished before things started getting bad for me and I finally managed to put the finishing touches on it. It was actually a lot of fun and I hope you all enjoy :)

Hazel wasn't sure if she was more concerned or angry, but before she could open her mouth to yell, she remembered something very important. 

Her eyes darted towards the cabin. 

They were still a decent distance away, but elves were known for their hearing and she couldn't take any more risks. Thus, Hazel marched over to Glorfindel, grabbed him by the front of his tunic, and dragged him further into the woods.

The ancient warrior made little protest as she yanked him along. Hazel was determined and Glorfindel had to duck down due to their height difference, leaving him to scramble off balance as he followed her. She didn't give an inch and was moving rather fast for her short strides. 

Once they were what she deemed a suitable distance, she released the elf with a huff, crossing her arms and glaring at him with full fury. The elf appeared to be rather chagrined, whether from being pulled by his cloths like a naughty child or guilt over whatever he had done, Hazel wasn't sure. Either way she stood there, foot tapping in the snow and clearly waiting for an explanation. 

"Well..."

"I... uh," Glorfindel was still straitening his tunic, brushing his fingers through his hair and _absolutely_ stalling.

"Glorfindel," her voice was cold and steely. "What. Did. You. Do?"

"I didn't mean to, truly," he blurted out. 

"Please, _please_ tell me that-"

"I swear, on my honor," he had his palm pressed to his heart and everything. "I had absolutely no intention to read it and I didn't even turn the page."

"No... you've got to be kidding me. You-"

"It's just, it was in my hand... and despite what Erestor might say I'm a fast reader, one has to be when often handling battle reports and I did once lead an entire house in a hidden kingdom, a job which certainly requires more paperwork than one would imagine and plus I had addition duties regarding training soldiers and security so I really had to develop the ability to read quickly and of course that's beside the point," he was rambling, full on rambling in a word vomit that Hazel would almost consider impressive. "And so really, I had no intention of betraying your trust and I only _barely_ skimmed _one_ page which could of been of absolutely no consequence but it just so happened to be turned to a particularly mournful funeral dirge and of course I was able to extrapolate from there and really this was mostly because I've been to Gondor and Minas Tirith many times before and so I recognized much and there is of course the fact that I do know of their quest already as I was present at the Council when the Fellowship was formed and I took close part in those proceedings so it's not like I learned much secret knowledge, really I didn't learn anything more than what Lord Elrond might have already seen-"

"SHUT UP!" Hazel covered her eyes and groaned in frustration. She felt slightly guilty at her outburst but at least it achieved the purpose of Glorfindel finally clapping his mouth shut. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes still firmly shut as she tried to process the slightest fraction of Glorfindel's outpouring of words that was actually relevant. 

"Sorry!" The word seemed to spill out and the elf immediately clamped his hands over his mouth. 

"So let me get this strait," Hazel breathed deeply, hearing the voice of her mother in her head- _now Hazel... I know you're upset but remember, hitting people is never the solution. Use your words dear._ "You, completely on accident, read a single page from a book titled _The Two Tower_ which just so happened to be the page where Aragorn and Legolas were singing about Boromir's death. And all of this... was completely coincidental."

"...Yes."

"Care to explain how you _accidentally_ read a book that I distinctly recall locking in a safe?" Hazel closed her eyes again. She was trying to focus on the sound of birds who were in a far better mood than her as they picked off the last of the season's pinecones. 

"I... well- er... you see..." Glorfindel was shuffling his feet and fiddling with his hair, looking for all the world like a chastised child.

"Glorfindel?" Hazel's patience was wearing thin. 

"It's... I mean... well- you see-"

"Five."

"Truthfully-"

"Four."

"I shouldn't-"

"Three." Hazel ignored the thought that she was turning into her mother.

"Please, I-"

"Two."

"I confiscated it from Maglor!"

This time, it was Hazel whose jaw clicked shut. _Firstly_ , she really hadn't expected her mother's favorite trick from when she and her brothers were children to work on a several millennia old elven warrior, and _secondly..._

Maglor Feanorian had been reading the _Lord of the Rings_ books.

Maglor Feanorian had access to the gun safe.

"You see you were out one day and I saw the safe open and I found him standing there reading it so of course I confiscated the book and that's when I accidentally read that page which I of course feel guilty about and I completely understand why you're upset about it... but then Maglor asked that I not say anything to you and I know how stressed you've been about us all being here and I couldn't bear the thought of you being put under more stress with such a revelation and to my surprise Maglor was rather upfront about the fact that he had read quite a lot but he explained that he had no intentions of trying to change anything and that Maedhros didn't know that he had accessed the safe so I figured that Maglor is far less likely to cause harm than his brother so I decided-"

Hazel held up a hand to stop Glorfindel. She was pretty sure that he had managed to spill out his entire dialogue without breathing once, but Hazel hadn't really been listening. With her face pressed to the palms of her hands, Hazel was pacing back and forth. 

_Oh shit..._

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit..._

She recalled the way Maglor was so easily goaded into a fight, how he had taken such a long time to join in with the music, how distant he had seemed during their nightly harp lessons. Overall, Maglor had been acting weird and Hazel had dismissed it all as general Feanorian broodiness. Of course... of course it wasn't so simple. If he had been reading _The Two Towers_ then that meant he had probably already read _The Fellowship of the Ring_ which meant that, at the very least, he know too much about Elrond's future, he knew about Sauron, and he knew about the One Ring that Frodo was carrying. 

"Glorfindel," Hazel spoke carefully, her tone at the precipice of explosion. "This is what we're going to do... we're going to walk back to where we were, you're going to pick up those boxed, and we're going to return the the cabin and pretend that nothing here has happened. You will tell no one about what we just discussed... and I'll deal with Maglor _alone._ Is that clear?"

"...Yes."

They did exactly that. Without a word, the pair slipped back into the cabin to rejoin the festivities and chaos of decorating a home for Christmas. Hazel couldn't quite think of a good excuse to get Maglor by himself and thus decided to wait for a more opportune moment. 

The hearth had a roaring fire that crackled merily as one of Hazel's favorite Christmas albums played softly in the background. The scent of cinnamon was wafting though the air as Sam, aided by Merry, was rolling out gingerbread dough. While there was a fair amount of shouting going on, it seemed to all be in good fun... a joyful cacophony of sound. 

Shockingly, it seemed that the motley crew was excited enough by the concept of Christmas that no one was fighting. Maedros and Gimli stood around the tree, fluffing out the branching and trimming any that seemed out of place. The arrangement seemed to work well as Maedhros was the only one tall enough to reach the upper branches with ease whilst Gimli worked easily beneath him. Glorfindel was gleefully digging through the boxes, unwrapping glass ornaments and ceramic knick knacks that had been stored in tissue paper. He was careful to line them up on tables and shelves, trying to avoid smashing any more. Boromir and Legolas sat on the couches in the middle of the living room, carefully untangling the bundles of tinsel and string lights that somehow, no matter how neatly they were put away the year before, always managed to knot themselves in the most impossible ways. 

Hazel slipped into the kitchen, dodging Sam's strict task-mastering of Merry, to mix up some hot chocolate. She laughed aloud as she witnessed Aragorn and Maglor, each with a hobbit on their shoulders, trying to hang up lights. Of course, it would've been far easier and more efficient to have the noble elves take up the task... but it was far more amusing to watch Frodo and Pippin attempt to steer their respective carriers as they tried to snag the twinkling lights on the tiny nails that Hazel's family used every year. 

"A little to the left Aragorn... no my left-" Frodo was stretching to the side, string lights swinging precariously as he waved them about. 

"We're facing the same direction Frodo... this is left," Aragorn's tone was chiding, but his eyes were fond. 

"Oh, er... right then."

"Looks like Maglor and I are winning, cousin!" Pippin stuck out his tung as he pointed to their straight-ish line of lights. 

"Mine are neater!" Frodo called. 

"But I've done more!" Pippin shot back. 

"Doesn't count if they're not nice!"

"Oh I'll get you for that! Maglor!" Pippin was shouting, pointing at Frodo and kicking at Maglor's shoulders like he was a horse. 

The elf shared a long suffering look with Aragorn before rolling his eyes and complying with his tiny passenger, mock charging forward. 

"Aragorn, get him!" Frodo, more light hearted than Hazel ever remembered, copied Pippins kicking motions as Aragorn faced Maglor and charged as well. 

The pair met up in a strategically empty spot of flooring, circling each other carefully as if sizing up for battle. Then, Maglor jumped forward and Pippin launched himself at Frodo. The two hobbits latched onto each other, tugging and pushing whilst Maglor and Aragorn danced around, carefully to keep both of their charges safe atop their shoulders. The hobbits shouted playful insults at each other, disparaging everything from their fashion senses to whose relatives were more bothersome... a strange feat considering they were cousins. 

By this point in time, the entire cabin had stopped their tasks to watch the battle unfold. Merry, Gimli, Legolas, Glorfindel, and Gandalf all shouted encouragement to either side and Hazel was pretty sure that she saw a few coins being tossed into a betting pool. 

It was just when the fight reached its peak that Pippin launched himself a bit far forward, making a grab for Frodo whilst Aragorn lept backwards. Pippin's arms flapped in a pinwheeling motion as he tried t regain his balance. Like a scene from a movie, everything seemed to slow as one of Pippin's hands brushed down Frodo's front, catching the thin chain that hung there. The chain with its ornament flew through the air, bouncing thrice against the wooden floors before it fell still. 

The entire room save Maedhros froze in silent horror, no one daring to move an inch. Hazel felt her heart thumping in her chest as she stared at the unassuming gold ring, sitting on the floor of her family's cabin. Aside from the Silmarilions, that little ring was probably the most dangerous object in all of Middle Earth's history... and now it was sitting before the two most infamous Feanorians.

Maedhros seemed a bit confused by the sudden stillness and was the first to break the silence, taking a set forward towards where the ring sat on the floor. 

"I doubt there was any damage-" he began as he walked towards the ring.

Before anyone else could react however, Maglor stepped between his brother and the ring, all traces of earlier shock gone and replaced with a good humored smile. 

"Well it seems we never learned from all those years of watching the little ones," he chuckled a bit as he pulled Pippin off of his shoulders and handed him to Maedhros who took him on instinct. "Remember how many times we broke Ammë's works."

Maedhros nodded, throughly distracted by the squirming hobbit who was insisting that he was _not_ a child and that he could walk on his own, thank you very much.

Hazel seized the opportunity of the distracted elf and scooped up the ring. She saw from the corner of her eye how Aragorn was watching her with extreme caution. But, much to her surprise, the only odd thing she felt about the ring was that it was cold despite having been against Frodo's skin for so long. She turned it over in her hands a few times, but felt nothing else odd. There was no pull, no seductive voice beckoning her to put it on or keep it. If anything... it just simply a plain gold ring. She then move the examining the clasp, finding it luckily still intact. Perhaps the Ring had indeed been up to some mischief as there really was no good reason for it to have fallen off. 

Frodo was approaching her slowly, caution in his eyes as if he too though that she would try to seize the One. Instead, Hazel shrugged and refastened the clasp, draping the chain over the hobbit's head. She smiled and couldn't resist the urge to ruffle his hair a bit as she felt the tension draining from the room. 

"No harm done," she called in the most cheerful voice that she could manage. "I know how protective you are over your Grandmother's heirloom... but it's undamaged."

Frodo only managed a shaky nod, but it was enough. Everyone went back to their previous tasks with Maedhros somehow ending up being saddled with Pippin on his shoulders to hang up the lights. Eventually, the cabin fell back into its easy cheer, Sam happily proclaiming that he would be making popcorn so that they could create popcorn strings to decorate the tree. 

Throughout the rest of the day though, Hazel could feel the quick glances of the members of the Fellowship. All of them were watching her, waiting. It seemed that they were all pondering as to when the other shoe would drop; when she would become power-hungry and try to steal the Ring from Frodo. In all honesty, Hazel wasn't sure why she was unaffected. She wasn't so arrogant as to claim a pure heart, untempted by greed or power. The only explanation that she could think of was that since she wasn't from Middle Earth, the magic infused into the Ring didn't affect her the same. 

In the end, between her confrontation with Glorfindel and the mini heart attack that she had when the One almost ended up getting grabbed by Maedhros Feanorian, Hazel retired early with strict instructions that she had every intention of sleeping and thus, everyone better figure out how to be quiet. 

Hazel trudged her way up the stairs, quickly shucking off her clothes and pulling her favorite winter flannels on before flopping backwards onto the bed. She sighed heavily, promising herself that she would talk to Maglor the next day. She closed her eyes, finally floating in the blissful realm of half sleep when her rest was interrupted. 

"Ummm... Miss Hazel," Sam had knocked on her door and opened it at Hazel's beckoning. He had a dishtowel in his hands and was worrying it back and forth, a contrite expression on his face. 

"What is it Sam?" Hazel propped herself up slightly on her bed. The most mature hobbit always seemed to be somewhat contrite and usually, him approaching her with such an expression involved explaining that one of the other hobbits- namely Merry or Pippin- had again knocked something over or eaten the majority of the meal before anyone else got any food. 

"Well you see... it's just-"

"Listen Sam, I've had a very long day and I'm pretty sure there's a mariachi band playing in the cavity of my skull so if you could please just tell me what Merry or Pippin broke, I could really use some peace and quiet."

"Erh... not broke per say," Hazel could hear Sam shuffling his feet and his voice dropped to a guild ridden whisper. "There just might have been a _small_ fire..."

_Silence._

Hazel inhaled. 

Hazel exhaled. 

She counted to ten in her head and then counted backwards from ten. 

She listed three happy places in her imagination. 

She imagined strangling each and every Middle Earth hero currently under her roof. 

"Miss Hazel?" Came the hesitant voice. 

"Sam," she exhaled slowly once more. "Please close the door."

The door shut and was followed by the sound of shuffling feet and muffled arguing in the kitchen. If Hazel strained, she would probably be able to hear what was going on, but she really really _really_ wasn't in the mood for it. 

Instead, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over her head to contemplate if smothering herself in bed would be a peaceful way to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He he... I just love Glorfindel being an adorable idiot and rambling.


	24. Chapter 24

Hazel was a self proclaimed animal lover. Now, her brothers might have had the hobbit of referring to her as "obsessed," but she would generally respond to such with a pointed glance at the elder's model car collection or the younger's plethora of star charts and they would usually quiet. In Hazel's youth however, her love of animals resulted in her gaining a bit of a collection. She liked to think of her bedroom as something of an animal sanctuary as she took in a wide array of abandoned pets. She often drove her parents crazy as apparently three fishtanks, five hamsters, a cat, and two parakeets were "too many animals for one bedroom." In Hazel's opinion however, the animals all fit perfectly well. Of course, she might have only had a thin path between her door and her bed, but everyone's cage was the proper size so really that was what mattered. Plus, the cat only attacked the bird cage once. 

Anyway, has Hazel had very little experience babysitting, she slowly began to think of her unintentional houseguests as something of a menagerie that she had rescued from the snow... a not altogether inaccurate way of viewing things.

The hobbits were quite clearly a horde of hamsters; between the way they stuffed their cheeks with food, got into places they shouldn't be able to, and generally discovered new ways to make nuisances of themselves despite being annoyingly cute... it was an easy comparison to make. 

When it came to Aragorn and Boromir, the men were quite clearly wolves; proud and solitary hunters who were capable of giving up their loner lifestyle to become fierce protectors of those who they cared for. 

Legolas... well if Hazel was in a good mood then she'd be inclined to compare Legolas to a bobcat, a bit smaller than some of the other predators in the group, but agile and feral when the need came. If Hazel was in a less generous mood however, she'd call him an overgrown house cat that puffed up and hissed at the bigger animals who walked past. 

Gimli was something of a wolverine, a creature only about as large as a medium dog but with the temper and strength to take down a moose or drive a bear away from its kill. Plus, he was also occasionally a prickly bastard if you caught him at the wrong time. 

Gandalf was simply a useless old schnauzer who was supposed to guard the house but instead spent his days sleeping near the hearth and chewing up one of each house-slipper.

Meadhros Feanorian was, of course, nothing less than a Bengal tiger: massive, beautiful, and deadly. One would think that something so large and alarmingly red would be easy to spot, but somehow he managed to be deceptively light on his feet. Plus, there was a level of intensity in his gaze that was so like Blake's verse.. not to mention the fact that he could probably kill most others with one blow. 

Maglor reminded Hazel too much of a great horned owl. Few voices could be so haunting and achingly beautiful... and tis an even more rare thing for someone with such a voice to be capable of such violence. Great horned owls are still birds of prey after all. 

And Glorfindel... Glorfindel was an overeager golden retriever who somehow managed to be an absolute idiot accidentally getting into everything and then looking guilty, and an alarmingly territorial, under-socialized dog who snapped at others who were a "threat."

Of course, something one might notice about this list is that the majority of these creatures make very poor pets. Now, image placing all these creatures in one cage and add on the fact that the bobcat is pissed at the tiger and the owl because of an ancient grudge, the wolves are territorial over the hamsters, the owl is trying to make friends with all the animals that the golden retriever is guarding, oh and the wolverine is constantly irritated with the tiger, owl, golden retriever, and bobcat just because. 

And after all that, Hazel was the unfortunate zookeeper who had to sort through that mess every single day. In summary, Hazel was about ready to release all the animals into the wild with a quick prayer that the invasive species wouldn't do too much damage. 

It was a lovely idea, but she really didn't want to have to bail them all out of jail when someone inevitable tried to fight a moving car or an electronic billboard. 

" **HAZEL!** " 

A loud scream drew her out of her thoughts and Hazel found herself releasing a long sigh, glancing briefly upwards as if some higher power was watching- and probably laughing. She uttered a brief curse to them for laughing at her and then stood up, walking towards the sound. 

She knew that all the elves and Aragorn, who was practically an honorary elf, were outside climbing willy nilly over the ice slicked roof to hang outdoor Christmas lights. A feat which had nearly given Hazel a heart attack earlier that morning as she had not been expecting to see a head of golden hair hanging upside down outside her second story window. Gandalf was, as usual, sleeping in the armchair near the fire and grumbling about how she wouldn't let him smoke inside. Gimli was off doing... whatever dwarves do when others annoy them, alone somewhere in the woods. That of course left the hobbits and their semi-problamatic babysitter, Boromir. 

When she arrived at the kitchen her eyes widened in shock. Boromir had, in one arm, a squirming Merry who was already coated in flour and alternating between insulting the Gondorian and cheering on his cousin. Boromir's other arm appeared to be engaged in an active effort to catch Frodo who was running through the kitchen, duking under and around various pieces of furniture. The man's expression was pure exasperation and he barely bothered to acknowledge Hazel as he seemed quite occupied in his chase. 

In the center of the kitchen was the main conflict, an apparent wrestling match between Sam and Pippin over what Hazel dearly _prayed_ was just a butter knife. They were covered head to toe in flour and shouting what must have counted for hobbit profanities at each other. 

"EVERYBODY STOP!!!" She screamed, loud enough that she hear the elves outside briefly pause their shuffling over the rooftops above.

The hobbits and Boromir froze so suddenly, it looked like a comical movie scene. Boromir was leaning forward, mid grab at the panting Frodo who was halfway ducked under and open drawer. Meanwhile, Pippin and Sam had their arms tangled together, that stupid butterknife clutched in a vice grip above their heads.

"First of all," Hazel took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. "Put. That. Knife. Down. Before someone gets their eye poked out."

The two hobbits immediately untangled and sheepishly placed the knife on the counter. 

_Oh thank god it was a butter knife,_ she thought briefly. 

"Miss Hazel-"

"He started it-"

"It's all Sam's fault-"

"I was merely attempting-"

"But he said that I couldn't-"

"I wasn't about to allow him to-"

"You said-"

"Not wargs!"

"You're not my father-"

"Hey, he's-"

"Stop," she held out a hand to cut them off. All four of the Hobbits plus Boromir were jabbering away and arguing. "One at a time you will explain to me what happened, starting with Sam."

"Hey why does he-" Pippin began to whine, but was quieted by a fierce glare from Hazel. 

She listened to Sam continue, her eyebrows raising as she heard the halting story of how he had invited Pippin to aide him in cutting out shapes for the gingerbread cookies, but refused to allow gingerbread wargs. Pippin took great issue with this and Sam was trying to reclaim the butterknife that they have been using to cut out the dough. Meanwhile, Frodo and Merry had quite clearly picked sides and Boromir was attempting to stop the entire mess. 

Hazel took a few deep breaths, willing for the patience needed to deal with everyone to fall from heaven. 

"Alright... Pippin, no gingerbread wargs- and NO Balrogs either!" She glared at the youngest hobbit until he finally nodded his head. "Sam, let others help as well. Boromir, you've led armies in Gondor... try to control four hobbits. Frodo, Merry... just don't. And for the love of-"

"Hazel?" 

Hazel paused her rant and turned to find Maglor's head poking in through the doorway. He had a wool scarf wrapped snug around his neck and a few bits of tinsel caught in his hair. He barely paused to acknowledge the flour coated hobbits. 

"Yes?"

"Glorfindel told me to come find you. He said that you needed my assistance with something."

_Of course he did._

Hazel resisted the urge to slap a palm to her face as she realized that she still needed to talk to Maglor about the books that he had read. She really really didn't want to have that conversation. 

"Ya, okay," the words came out against her will as she sighed heavily. "Meet me in the basement in a few."

Maglor nodded and headed down the stairs. 

She followed him down shortly and gestured for Maglor to sit on the couch. He complied, but she remained standing. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath, searching for some remaining reserve of patience that she just didn't have. 

"So you've been acting a bit... odd- odder than usual, lately," she spoke in a dry tone, sarcasm seeping into her voice. 

"Ah yes," he smiled the perfect picture of serene grace. "It is a difficult adjustment to make, being around so many others of such queer natures. I've found that-"

"Any other reason for the strange behavior?"

"None that I can think of."

Hazel leveled him with her glare, but he simply smiled politely back at her. 

"Any good reading lately?"

"I- erh," she saw the crack in his facade. 

"Because I had the most interesting conversation with Glorfindel..." She trailed off her words and watched as Maglor began to squirm in his seat. 

"Erh- yes... about that..."

"Mhm... about that..." She gestured for him to continue speaking. 

"I admit... I did read the books." 

"For fuck's sake Maglor!" She paused when she realized how loud she gotten. "The thing with the potential to destroy all of Middle Earth, the potential to unravel history and tear your world apart... and you had to go and-"

"Well my family does have a reputation for such things."

"Not the time for jokes," she said, dropping down onto the couch beside him. She was decently unamused by the situation. "So... what now?"

"I don't know what you mean," he seemed to deflate a little. "I don't intend to do anything about it. It's... a tragedy. But I know at least that our foe will one day fall."

"I suppose that's a relief." 

"It is... we've always feared that Morgoth would be undefeatable, that he would claw his way back..."

"You don't seem too broken up about Gandalf though," she nudged his shoulder with her elbow jokingly. It was an attempt to lighten the mood and it seemed to work as Maglor chuckled lightly. 

"Oh he's Maia... he'll be fine."

They both laughed a bit and settled. There was a weird weight around them now. They both knew more than they should have, they were walking and talking with beings who they knew were destined to die. They were living in a house amongst ghosts. Hazel found herself lightly fiddling with Maglor's braids, her hands needing something to do as her mind wandered. 

"So really? You're not going to try to change anything? Save anyone?"

"There's no point."

"Really?" Part of her didn't believe him. To her, Malgor always seemed the more sentimental of the two Feanorians. 

"It says that I tried... I tried to convince him to not seek out the stones, I tried to stop him from jumping off the cliff... there's nothing more that I _can_ do. The Oath is too strong."

Maglor slouched back against the seat. His grey eyes seemed to reveal how old and weary he really was. There was a sort of sad resignation about him. He was a man already defeated. 

"I-" Hazel was trying to think of words of comfort, something to assure him that it would be alright when they both knew very well that it wouldn't be. But, then her mind seemed to finally catch up with the elf's words... and something stood out. "What do you mean by you 'tried to stop him?'"

"The book said that I tried to convince Maedhros to forsake the oath... that I-"

"That's not in the _Lord of the Rings_ books."

"No, it was in the one titled _The Silmarillion._ "

"You read _The Silmarillion_?!" Hazel stood up in alarm. _Oh this is so much worse than I thought!_

"Isn't that what we're... isn't that what we're talking about?" There was genuine confusion in his tone. 

"I thought you only read _Lord of the Rings._ "

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh' indeed."

Because of course... of course he had to not only read about the future of his world... he had to read his entire own story. Maglor Feanorian was far too much of an overachiever to risk the future of Arda... he had to potentially throw the past into chaos as well. 

Hazel's migraine got a lot worse. 

"Listen-"

"HAAAAAZZZZEEELLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The door to the basement slammed open and Frodo came stumbling down the stairs. He was saved from cracking his head on the cement floor of the basement only by Maglor's quick reflexes. The elf caught the hobbit midair and placed him feet first on the ground. Frodo took his impromptu flight in stride and ran straight for Hazel, grabbing her arm and tugging her in the direction of the staircase, rambling as he went.

"Idon'tknowhowithappenedbutGimligotbackandSammayhavesortaaccidentalyhithimwiththerollingpinandthenPippinspilleddoughintohisbeardandMerrylaughedandnowIthinkGimliisgoingtokillthemandBoromiristryingtostophimbuthe'sreallyangryand-"

"What?!" It was only then that Hazel realized that Frodo had what appeared to be several cracked eggs tangled in his hair along with a rather generous dusting of flour. In fact, it looked quite like he had been marinating in the cookie dough instead of rolling it out. 

"Hurry!" He yelled by way of explanation, somehow tugging on Hazel enough to pull her up the staircase. 

She complied reluctantly, looking over her shoulder to offer Maglor one last glare that very much meant 'we're not finished discussing this.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, this chapter was mostly a self indulgent chance to express the extended metaphor that has been bouncing around in my head. I know it's not much for the plot... but as I've said before, this fic is mostly my fun stress relief. I promise we'll be getting back to plot soon.


	25. Chapter 25

Hazel was thoroughly exhausted, and oddly, a bit sad. The countdown until the date where her Middle Earth guests were set to return home was dwindling. As much of pain as they were, she didn't know what she would do when they left. Since the moment her friends cancelled, she had been planning on several weeks of peace and quiet... and instead she got her entire world view thrown into a blender and adopted enough heroes to launch a quest to save a half dozen kingdoms. 

Her houseguests were noisy, argumentative, frighteningly fond of sharp objects, destructive, and general disturbers of any semblance of peace. And yet... she found herself awfully fond of them. 

But, either way, their selected Christmas celebration was also drawing closer and Hazel was overseeing the last of the decorations. Legolas and Aragorn had been rather successful in their mission to find various natural decorations that didn't involve killing entire plants and the entire cabin smelled beautifully of pine and cedar. 

Said elf was reaching over Gimli's head to fix a ribbon that had become crooked when Hazel couldn't help but notice something. A mischievous grin crossed her face. 

"Stop!" She called out and the entire bustling cabin froze, Legolas with his hand in mid-air, leaning forward on one foot with all the grace of a ballerina. 

"Is everything alright?" Aragorn asked, eyes immediately darting towards the kitchen where three out of four flour-dusted hobbits were baking raisin bread for afternoon tea. 

"Legolas, Gimli, do you know what plant that is?" She asked innocently, pointing to the shining white berries woven into a garland above them. 

"I'm not sure," Legolas, realizing there was no danger, moved slightly to touch the glossy leaves. "It bears a strong resemblance to snow-dew which grows along the norther edges of the woods."

"Well," Hazel fluttered her eyelashes and flashed another smile. "That plant is called mistletoe, and it's incredibly important to Christmas celebrations."

"Is it?" Sam asked, always eager to learn. 

"Oh indeed." Hazel, rather wisely, took a slight step back. "You see, any two who meet under the mistletoe must kiss as a sign of friendship and peace. To refuse a kiss brings bad luck."

Legolas looked down as the dwarf standing below him, his face instantly turning bright red. Gimli, looking upward, wasn't doing much better as he began to splutter what Hazel could only assume to be curses in Kuzdul.

"There's no way in Mahal's name you'll find me kissing some fanciful elf-"

"I will most assuredly not be-"

"Ah ah ah," Aragorn, a smile with a hint of a smirk crossing his own face, took a few steps forward. "As guests in this realm, it is up to us to follow their traditions. Surely, Legolas, as a prince you must know this."

"Estel-" Legolas looked at his friend desperately. "You cannot possibly-"

"I ain't-"

"Master Gimli," Gandalf's tone was serious as he stood, but no one in the room could miss his absolute shit-eating grin. "Need I remind you of the the importance of our quest? Would you risk bringing a plague of ill luck upon us by avoiding a simple act of friendship?"

"I- I..." Gimli spluttered, looking thoroughly lost. 

"I think tis best that you both comply," Boromir now stood, his own arms crossed and such a severe expression on his face that Hazel was unsure if he was in on the joke. 

The entire cabin stood tense as very reluctantly, Legolas leaned down, closing his eyes. Gimli muttered one more curse before closing his own eyes as well, lips puckered like he had just bit down on something incredibly bitter. Hazel could feel everyone in the room holding their breath as the two barely brushed lips before leaping backward, Gimli immediately spitting upon the floor and Legolas furiously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

A round of cheers, whoops, and applause rang through the cabin as Gimli and Legolas, both bright red, stormed off in opposite directions, cursing in their respective languages. Apparently, whatever Legolas said was suitably creative as Hazel watched Maglor's eyebrows slowly rising. Maedhros, meanwhile, looked almost impressed. 

Hazel chuckled, shaking her head as she walked outside to get some fresh air. As she walked, she contemplated how, in the not so distant future, Legolas and Gimli would enter the Golden Woods as enemies, and walk out as the fastest of friends. Perhaps they would look back at this moment when standing on the ramparts of Helm's Deep and laugh about how they once made such fuss about something as small as a kiss, when they were prepared to die for each other. Legolas would allow his own people to sail without him, all in an effort to linger with Gimli.

They had so much growing to do. 

Hazel's feet took whichever direction they pleased as she wandered in the open, enjoying the momentary solitude of the vast empty. She soon found herself inexplicably drawn to the place where she always seemed to end up, her special clearing. As she approached however, she couldn't help but notice that someone had beat her to her little slice of solitude. A small body with a head of curly hair, wrapped in a blanket stolen from the couch, sat upon Hazel's favorite stump. 

It was the only one missing from the earlier laughter. 

"So... whatcha thinking about?" Hazel plopped down on the spot beside Frodo. Said hobbit looked up, startled. He seen recovered though. 

"Nothing."

"Wrong," she plucked at a few delicate snowdrops and began braiding them together. "This place," she used one hand to gesture to the clearing they were sitting in. "Well... it's for thinking. I'm not sure what it is about it... but it's sorta like magic. It's the best place on the entire property to hear the Ghost sing and people come here when they need to think about something troubling them."

Frodo remained silent for a while. It was a trait that Hazel had noticed early on about the ringbearer. He was often silent, far more than the other hobbits. Hazel knew that the One was a great burden, that carrying it weighed heavily on Frodo's heart. She couldn't even imagine what it felt like for the fate of an entire world to rest on your shoulders. 

"I... I don't know if I can do it," it came out in almost a whisper. "I just... I can feel it. Every day it pulls harder and harder. Every time there's a hint of danger I can hear it whispering to me, telling me to put it on. And," he paused, looking down at his hands. "They don't think that I can do it."

"Who?"

"Everyone."

"I don't think they-"

"At the council," Frodo looked up then, a sad and desperate glint in his eyes. "I saw their faces, the elves. They looked at me with pity and regret. They don't think that I can do it. They think that I'll fail and they're right!" It was like the damn had burst and everything was pouring out. "And even if somehow I resist the pull, how am I supposed to get through Mordor? I'm just a hobbit from the Shire! I don't even know the proper direction to get to Mordor, let alone how to travel, avoid bandits, orcs, and all manner of Sauron's allies. I'm not like Bilbo! I'm not brave or strong, I don't... I don't even know what I'm doing on this quest. I'm just... afraid."

"You'd be an idiot if you weren't," Hazel smirked a little as she rubbed between his shoulder blades. "That thing is powerful and evil. It's caused great Kings to fall. You shouldn't feel bad because you can feel its pull."

"But it didn't affect you." He looked up at Hazel, there was something almost hopeful in his gaze. "Why didn't it affect you? Why can't you carry it then?"

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Not my world, the magic must not be meant for people from other worlds."

Frodo looked down, kicking lightly at the snow. He ran a hand though his messy curls and tugged at the blanket wrapped around his neck. Hazel knew that look, it was the same that she had when she was looking at the college admissions envelope when she was certain that she was about to receive a rejection letter. It was the look of someone staring into what they were certain was failure. 

"I'm not the right one... I'm not strong enough."

There was a beat of silence, filled only with the wind howling and the distant echo of a melody from the high mountain caves. 

"Did you know that I could ride a horse before I could walk?" Hazel asked, watching as Frodo's head snapped up in surprise at the change in topic. 

"...no?"

"It's true," she smiled lightly at the memory. "My mom grew up with horses and wanted to make sure that my brothers and I did as well. I was riding on my own long before I was able to walk upright."

"Thats-"

"Not as impressive as you might think," Hazel's smile became a bit tight. She sighed heavily, wondering why she decided to start this conversation. But, nevertheless, she began to slowly untie to her boot. "You see... I learned to ride before I learned to walk because... well... it took a long time for me to be able to walk."

With that, she pulled off her sock and revealed something that she had not shown to any other of the cabin's inhabitants. Beneath her sock, her ankle was wrapped firmly in an flexible brace. The thick black material secured with velcro straps the only thing supporting her ankle and keeping her upright. 

"What happened?" He asked. The hobbit's eyes were bright with curiosity, but also kindness. 

"Biology, bad luck?" Hazel shrugged again. "It's a long story, but basically I was born with my body falling apart. My ankles were the most affected and were so weak that I couldn't put weight on them. My parents were told that I would probably need help the rest of my life and I would almost certainly never walk. I just wasn't strong enough. So... they taught me how to ride. Then, once I was able to do that they spent every day trying to get me to walk. No matter how many times the doctors said that it wouldn't happen... they didn't give up. More importantly, they convinced me to never give up. I kept trying... I fell down so many times I'm not sure if it's even funny but... eventually... I took a step." Hazel smiled a bit fondly at the memory. "From there it was years of therapy and strengthening. Even now I still need these braces for support but... well I can walk."

She allowed Frodo to brush his fingers along the edges of her braces. She didn't know exactly why she had kept it a secret for so long. When she was young she had been insecure about her weakness, but as she grew she had learned to accept it as a part of her. Nevertheless, lingering insecurities always remained. There was something about the elves, about their absolute perfection that suddenly made her insecurities reemerge. Part of the reason why she had been so determined to stay in the cabin by herself was to prove to her family that she was perfectly capable of being independent. To prove that she was indeed strong enough. 

She might not have been able to understand what it felt like for an entire world to be depending on you, but she certainly knew what if felt like for others to always think that you weren't enough. 

"But what if _I_ am really not strong enough?"

Hazel slowly reached forward and grasped the hobbit's hand, moving it so his palm touched the Ring beneath his shirt. She curled the edges of his finger around it, squeezing tightly and pressing his hand to his chest. 

"Aragorn, heir of kings and rightful ruler of Gondor, knows that he is too weak to carry this burden, Gandalf, a wizard of power that goes beyond that which you have seen also knows that he isn't strong enough to resist the temptation. Yet, both of them, trust you with it. Both of them see you as the only one strong enough to bear it."

"But I-"

"And you're not alone." Hazel released her grip on his hand and instead rested her palm against his shoulder. "There are eight others in that cabin who have pledged themselves to stand beside you, to guide you as far as they can. They are relying on you, yes. But, they are also there for you to rely upon. Don't be afraid to share your burden, Frodo. You're friends are with you."

Frodo's eyes grew distant and Hazel knew that she had done all that she could. He needed tome to think and she trusted that her little secret spot would be the same balm to his soul as it always was to hers. She gave Frodo one last pat on the back before re-lacing her shoes and slowly making her way back to the cabin. Just as she left the clearing though, she heard the Ghost singing. 

She smiled. 

The path she took back was slow and meandering, giving her a chance for that solitude which she had originally set out to seek. Frodo was now the only one who knew of her braces and whilst she generally didn't think of her condition as a secret, she would prefer to not have to discuss it with all the Middle Earth heroes. But, something told her that Frodo wouldn't say anything about it. 

Hazel sighed deeply, thinking of Frodo and his quest. When she was younger, she had always dreamed of becoming a hero like in the books that she loved to read. She imagined herself as a brave warrior or powerful mage, setting out on a daring quest to save the kingdom. She fantasized of the adventure and excitement. But, then she grew up and realized that none of it was true, that heroes always sacrificed the most and that setting out to save a kingdom meant that the burden was enough to crush your soul. No one really wanted to be the hero. 

The air was crisp and clear, the scent snow, a uniquely clean and pristine aroma, surrounded her. In the distance, she could just barely hear the singing of the Ghost who always seemed to sing the most in these moments when the sun is just barely kissing the horizon, casting warm hues of pink and gold. She stood for a moment just basking in the beauty of the woods that she could never stay away from for long. 

But, the wind was picking up and the chill was beginning to set into her bones. Hazel smiled one last time at the sunset, thinking of grateful she was that she wasn't a hero. She had no quest to complete, no kingdoms relying upon her. She was just Hazel, regular Hazel who was going to get her degree in chemistry and go on to having a completely normal and insignificant life. 

There's something comforting about that, about just being enough for existing. 

As Hazel approached the cabin, she paused for a few seconds when she was a few feet from the door, listening. Maglor had taken to the piano and was playing a Joy to the World, whilst Aragorn, Glorfindel, and the hobbits joined in. She could hear the soft voice of Frodo accompanying the singers and Hazel couldn't help but smile, knowing that Frodo had gotten roped into the holiday cheer. 

When she walked in the door she was greeted by a chorus of hellos before making her way into the kitchen and putting a pan of milk on the stove. It was the perfect night for hot chocolate and she figured that it was as good a time as any to introduce ghost stories to the group. Hazel kept discreetly peeking at the group as she set about her work, noticing that Gimli and Legolas were stoutly refusing to meet look at each other. As the milk began to steam and Maglor begrudgingly switched into Jingle Bells at Glorfindel's request, Hazel made a mental note to ask Maglor to restrain his brother from sharing any Balrog related ghost stories. 

At that thought, Hazel pulled out a bottle of spiced rum to spike her drink. It was probably going to be a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He he... snuck a little mistletoe cliche in there. I hope everyone is having a safe and happy holiday season. I know the world isn't ideal right now, but now's a time to be like Hazel and make due with what you've got, enjoying the time you spend with whoever happens to be near you. 
> 
> So whatever holiday you celebrate, Happy Holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this is just a purely fun piece that I'm writing as a form of stress relief. This being said, apologies if it is particularly bad... but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.


End file.
